fore. Their
relations, as he depicted them, conveyed a common story of a casual
acquaintance developed in the familiar atmosphere of secluded
restaurants, with dances and theatres later on. His story of this phase
had all the familiar elements which make up the setting of a modern
sophisticated love episode, into which a man and a girl enter with their
eyes open. In the masculine way, Nepcote refrained from saying anything
which could hurt the dead girl's reputation, but it was his reticence
and reservations which completed the story for his listener. He said
that their flirtation ceased when Violet became engaged to Philip
Heredith. On his own showing he then acted sensibly enough in a delicate
situation, and was afterwards reluctant to accept the invitation to the
moat-house. With one of his reticent evasions he slurred over his reason
for changing his mind, but Colwyn guessed that it was due to the
feminine disinclination to bury an old romance. Violet had probably
written and asked him to come.

He conveyed to Colwyn a picture of the state of things existing at the
moat-house when he arrived. It was an unconscious revelation on his part
of a giddy shallow girl hastily marrying a wealthy young man for his
money, quickly bored by the dull decorum of English country life,
sighing for her former existence--for the gay distractions of her
irresponsible London days. It seemed that in this frame of mind she
welcomed Nepcote as a dear link with the past, and sought his society
with a frequency which had its embarrassments. Of course there was
nothing in it--Nepcote was fiercely insistent on that--she was bored,
poor girl, and liked to talk about old times with her old friend, but it
was awkward, devilish awkward, in a country house full of idle people
and curious servants with nothing to do but use their eyes.

She had taken him aside to tell him of her little troubles. Miss
Heredith did not think her good enough for Phil--she was sure she
thought that. They had the vicar and old frumps in to tea, and she had
to listen to their piffle. They all went to bed soon after ten--just
when people were beginning to wake up in London and go out for the
night. And she had to go to church on Sunday because it was expected of
her, did he ever hear of such rot--and so on. It seemed that everything
in her life bored her. Of course Phil worshipped her, but that didn't
help her much. How could it, Nepcote asked, fixing his burning glance o