retended to care a rap
about you--except to pass the time. You are altogether too obvious. Very
young girls and very old women would rave about you. You simply don't
appeal to me. Perhaps I know you too well. What does it matter!"

He sighed and examined a sauce critically. They were lunching at
Prince's alone, at a small table near the wall.

"Your taste," he remarked a little spitefully, "would be considered a
trifle strange. Souspennier carries his years well, but he must be an
old man."

She sipped her wine thoughtfully.

"Old or young," she said, "he is a man, and all my life I have loved
men,--strong men. To have him here opposite to me at this moment, mine,
belonging to me, the slave of my will, I would give--well, I would
give--a year of my life--my new tiara--anything!"

"What a pity," he murmured, "that we cannot make an exchange, you and I,
Lucille and he!"

"Ah, Lucille!" she murmured. "Well, she is beautiful. That goes for
much. And she has the grand air. But, heavens, how stupid!"

"Stupid!" he repeated doubtfully.

She drummed nervously upon the tablecloth with her fingers.

"Oh, not stupid in the ordinary way, of course, but yet a fool. I should
like to see man or devil try and separate us if I belonged to him--until
I was tired of him. That would come, of course. It comes always. It is
the hideous part of life."

"You look always," he said, "a little too far forward. It is a mistake.
After all, it is the present only which concerns us."

"Admirable philosophy," she laughed scornfully, "but when one is
bored to death in the present one must look forward or backward for
consolation."

He continued his lunch in silence for a while.

"I am rebuked!" he said.

There came a pause in the courses. He looked at her critically. She was
very handsomely dressed in a walking costume of dove-coloured grey. The
ostrich feathers which drooped from her large hat were almost priceless.
She had the undeniable air of being a person of breeding. But she
was paler even than usual, her hair, notwithstanding its careful
arrangement, gave signs of being a little thin in front. There were
wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. She knew these things, but she bore
his inspection with indifference.

"I wonder," he said reflectively, "what we men see in you. You have
plenty of admirers. They say that Grefton got himself shot out at the
front because you treated him badly. Yet--you are not much to look at,
are you?"