er Logotheti had guessed that there had been
anything between her and Lushington. Logotheti ushered his guests in
under the main entrance.

'Do you know Mr. Lushington well?' she asked.

'Yes, in a way. I once published a little book, and he wrote a very
nice article about it in a London Review. You did not know I was a man
of letters, did you?' Logotheti laughed quietly. 'My book was not very
long--only about a hundred pages, I think. But Lushington made out that
it wasn't all rubbish, and I was always grateful to him.'

'What was your book about?' asked Margaret, as they entered the house.

'Oh, nothing that would interest you--the pronunciation of Greek. Will
you take off your hat?'

At every step, at every turn, Margaret realised how much she had been
mistaken in thinking that anything in Logotheti's house could be in bad
taste. There was perfect harmony everywhere, and a great deal of
simplicity. The man alone offended her eye a little, the man himself,
with his resplendent tie, his jewellery and his patent leather shoes;
and even so, it was only the outward man, in so far as she could not
help seeing him and contrasting his appearance with his surroundings.
For he was as tactful and quiet, and as modest about himself as ever;
he did not exhibit the conquering air which many men would have found
it impossible not to assume under the circumstances; he showed himself
just as anxious to please little Madame De Rosa as Margaret herself,
and talked to both indiscriminately. If Margaret at first felt that she
was doing something a little eccentric, not to say compromising, in
accepting the invitation, the sensation had completely worn off before
luncheon was half over, and she was as much at her ease as she could
have been in Mrs. Rushmore's own house. She felt as if she had known
Logotheti all her life, as if she understood him thoroughly and was not
displeased that he should understand her.

They went into the next room for coffee.

'You used to like my Zara maraschino,' said Logotheti to Madame De
Rosa.

He took a decanter from a large case, filled a good-sized liqueur glass
for her and set it beside her cup.

'It is the most delicious thing in the world,' cried the little woman,
sipping it eagerly.

'May I not have some, too?' asked Margaret.

'Not on any account,' answered Logotheti, putting the decanter back on
the other side. 'It's very bad for the voice, you know.'

'I never heard that,' said Madam