ment, saunters through
life--physically and morally--exerting his energy and his strength in
one direction only--the eternal, aimless, enervating search after
personal pleasure.

To be explicit, the Honourable Valentine Serracauld was suffering from
that most modern of complaints--the lack of surmountable obstacles. The
nephew of one of the richest peers in England, he had started life
heavily handicapped. A sufficiency of money had rendered work
unnecessary; good looks and a naturally ingratiating manner had
precluded the need for mental equipment; while his social position had
unfairly protected him from any share in the rough and tumble existence
that moulds and hardens a man's character. At fifteen, he had been an
average healthy public schoolboy; at five-and-twenty, he was a
fashionable young aristocrat, whose only business in life was the
aiding and abetting of his uncle in the absorbing pursuit of killing
time.

He bowed now to Clodagh with the extreme impressiveness that men of his
type bestow upon a new and promising introduction.

"Charmed to meet you, Mrs. Milbanke!" he said. "Are you a resident
here--or a bird of passage like ourselves?" He indicated Barnard.

Clodagh met his intent gaze with a renewed thrill of speculative
pleasure.

"My husband and I live at Florence," she explained. "We are only here
on business--which sounds a desecration."

Serracauld continued to watch her.

"Not if you have any share in it," he said in a low voice.

She laughed and blushed.

"I'm afraid you speak from inexperience," she said. "To the people who
know me, I am a very prosaic person."

She looked involuntarily at Milbanke.

But Milbanke's eyes were on the groups of hotel guests, already moving
towards the dining-room.

"Don't you think we might--might make a move----?" he hazarded vaguely.

There was a very slight pause; then Serracauld responded to the
suggestion.

"You are quite right!" he said easily. "I expect my uncle is looking
for me; he usually gets fidgety about feeding time. Will you excuse me,
Mrs. Milbanke? Perhaps later on I shall have the chance of correcting
that inexperience you accuse me of."

He laughed pleasantly; and with a courteous gesture, disappeared into
the crowd that was fast filing out of the hall.

As he disappeared, Clodagh turned towards the dining-room, leaving
Milbanke and Barnard to follow; but she had scarcely crossed the hall,
when the latter overtook her.

"Wel