o develop their intellectual side. She spoke of
her son in a way that was almost male.

"He mustn't be small," she said, evidently comprehending both soul and
body in the assertion. "D'you know Lord Brayfield who was talking to me
just now?"

"You mean a fair man?"

"Yes, with a meaningless mouth. Jimmy mustn't grow up into anything of
that kind."

The conversation took a decidedly Doric turn as Mrs. Clarke developed
her ideas of what a man ought to be. In the midst of it Dion remembered
Dumeny, and could not help saying:

"But that type"--they had been speaking of what he considered to be
Rosamund's type of man, once described by her as "a strong soul in a
strong body, and a soft heart but not a softy's heart"--"is almost the
direct opposite of the artistic type of man, isn't it?"

Her large eyes looked "Well?" at him, but she said nothing.

"I thought you cared so very much for knowledge and taste in a man."

"So I do. But Jimmy will never have knowledge and taste. He's the
boisterous athletic type."

"And you're glad?"

"Not sorry, at any rate. He'll just be a thorough man, if he's brought
up properly, and that will do very well."

"I think you're very complex," Dion said, still thinking of Dumeny.

"Because I make friends in so many directions?"

"Well--yes, partly," he answered, wondering if she was reading his
thought.

"Jimmy's not a friend but my boy. I know very well Monsieur Dumeny, for
instance, whom you saw, and I dare say wondered about, at the trial; but
I couldn't bear that my boy should develop into that type of man. You'll
say I am a treacherous friend, perhaps. It might be truer to say I was
born acquisitive and too mental. I never really liked Monsieur Dumeny;
but I liked immensely his musical talent, his knowledge, his sure taste,
and his power of making almost everything flower into interestingness.
Do you know what I mean? Some people take light from your day; others
add to its light and paint in wonderful shadows. If I went to the
bazaars alone they were Eastern shops; if I went with Dumeny they were
the Arabian Nights. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"The touch of his mind on a thing gave it life. It stirred. One could
look into its heart and see the pulse beating. I care to do that, so I
cared to go about with Monsieur Dumeny. But one doesn't love people for
that sort of thing. In the people one loves one needs character, the
right fiber in the soul. You ought to know that."