ed her temple smile. "I could not tell her, as
somebody expressed it, that actresses happen in the best of families,
but I left her to decide whether she cared to have them happen in her
menage."

The priestess, looking to the north and south, resumed: "It might have
been different if she had been older, more experienced and had really
cared for him. But how could she care? The child's nature is dormant.
She does not know what love is. He is very nice, I have not a word to
say against him, not one, but a lamp-post would be quite as capable of
arousing her affection. She accepted him, I grant you that and you may
well ask why. I know I asked myself the same thing, until I remembered
that Mr. Austen offered to take me to Niagara Falls and I married him
just to go there. At the time I was a mere chit and Margaret is little
more. Now, I am not, I hope, censorious and I do not say that she had a
lucky escape, but I can say she thinks so. It was such a relief that it
gave her neuralgia. But the child will be up and about in no time and
then you must come and dine. You got my note?"

Paliser stifled a yawn. The priestess was, he knew, entirely willing to
deliver whatever he wanted at temple rates. But he knew, too, there were
forms and ceremonies to be observed. Being bored was one of them.

At another portal he has been obliged to go through the forms with
Carlotta Tamburini. She also had wearied him, though less infernally
than Mrs. Austen, and of the two he preferred her. The ex-diva was
certainly canaille, but her paw was open and ready, whereas this woman's
palm, while quite as itching, was delicately withheld. Their gods were
identical. It was the shrines that differed. The one at which the
Tamburini presided was plain as a pikestaff. The Austen's was bedecked
like a girl on her wedding-day. Behind each Priapus leered. Above both
was the shining face of Mammon.

In the present rites, that which wearied Paliser was the recital of the
reason of the broken engagement. It was broken, that was the end of it,
an end which, in ordinary circumstances, he would have regretted.
Ordinarily it would have made the running too easy. The hurdles were
gone. There were no sticks, no fences. It would not even have been a
race, just a canter. The goal remained but the sporting chance of
beating Lennox to it would have departed. That is the manner in which
ordinarily he would have regarded it. But the war, that was to change us
all, alr