ile you shut yourself away
from her."

"Then it's not she who shuts me out?" he tried to smile.

"No; no; oh, no, Gregory."

"I must push in, even when I seem to feel I'm not wanted?"

She would not yield to his attempted lightness. "You mustn't push in;
you must be in; with us, with Tante and me."

"Do you mean literally? I'm to be a third at your _tete-a-tetes_?"

"No, Gregory, I do not mean that; but in thought, in sympathy. You will
try to know Tante. You will make her feel that you and I are not parted
when she is there."

She saw it all, all Tante's side, with a dreadful clearness. And it was
impossible that she should see what he did. He must submit to seeming
blurred and dull, to pretending not to see anything. At all events her
hand was in his. He felt able to face the duel at close quarters with
Madame von Marwitz as long as Karen let him keep her hand.

CHAPTER XXIII

Tante arrived on Monday afternoon and the arrival reminded Gregory of
the Bouddha's installation; but, whereas the Bouddha had overflowed the
drawing-room only, Madame von Marwitz overflowed the flat.

A multitude of boxes were borne into the passages where, end to end,
like a good's train on a main line, they stood impeding traffic.

Louise, harassed and sallow, hurried from room to room, expostulating,
explaining, replying in shrill tones to Madame von Marwitz's sonorous
orders. Victor, led by Mrs. Forrester's footman, made his appearance
shortly after his mistress, and, set at large, penetrated unerringly to
the kitchen where he lapped up a dish of custard; while Mrs. Barker, in
the drawing-room, already with signs of resentment on her face, was
receiving minute directions from Madame von Marwitz in regard to a cup
of chocolate. In the dining-room, Gregory found two strange-looking men,
to whom Barker, also clouded, had served whisky and soda; one of these
was Madame von Marwitz's secretary, Schultz; the other a concert
impresario. They greeted Gregory with a disconcerting affability.

In the midst of the confusion Madame von Marwitz moved, weary and
benignant, her arm around Karen's shoulders, or seated herself at the
piano to run her fingers appraisingly over it in a majestic surge of
arpeggios. Gregory found her hat and veil tossed on the bed in his and
Karen's room, and when he went into his dressing-room he stumbled over
three band-boxes, just arrived from a modiste's, and hastily thrust
there by Louise.

Victor b