almost dreaded it.

He had answered. Yet on Sunday he must answer again. How he wished Mrs.
Shiffney had not called upon him a second time! In her persistence he
read her worldly cleverness. She divined the instability which he now
felt within him. It must be so. It was so. The first time he had met her
he had had a feeling as if to her almost impertinent eyes he were
transparent. And she had evidently seen something he had supposed to be
hidden, something he wished were not in existence.

Her remarks about English musicians, her banter about the provincial
festivals had stung him. The word "provincial" rankled. If it applied to
him, to his talent! If he were merely provincial and destined to remain
so because of his way of life!

Abruptly he became solicitous of opinion. He thought of Mrs. Mansfield,
and wondered what had been her opinion of his music. Almost mechanically
he crossed the broad road by the Marble Arch, turned into the windings
of Mayfair, and made his way to Berkeley Square.

"I'll ask her. I'll find out!" was his thought.

He rang Mrs. Mansfield's bell.

"Is Mrs. Mansfield at home?"

"Yes, sir."

"Is she alone?"

"Yes, sir."

Heath stepped in quickly. He still felt excited, uncertain of himself,
even self-conscious under the eyes of the butler. There was no one in
the drawing-room. As he waited he wondered whether Charmian was in the
house, whether he would see her. And now, for the first time, he began
to wonder also why Mrs. Shiffney had made so much of the fact that
Charmian was to be on the yacht. He recalled her words, "Poor Charmian
Mansfield! Whom can I get for her?" Had he been asked on Charmian's
account? That seemed to him very absurd. She certainly disliked him.
They were not en rapport. In the yacht they would be thrown together
incessantly. He thought of the expression in Mrs. Shiffney's eyes and
felt positive that she had pressed him to come for herself. But possibly
she fancied he liked Charmian because he came so often to Berkeley
Square. The cleverest woman, it seemed, made mistakes. But he could not
quite understand Mrs. Shiffney's proceedings. If he did, after all, go
on the yacht it would be rather amusing to study her. And Charmian?
Heath said to himself that he did not want to study her. She was too
uncertain, not without a certain fascination perhaps, but too ironic,
too something. He scarcely knew what it was that he disliked, almost
dreaded, in her. She was mischie