said, on the tide of a prolonged
chuckle. "When they aren't deaf."

Lady Holme still remained perfectly grave.

"Do you? Why?" she inquired.

"Can't you guess why?"

"Our charity to our sister women?"

She was smiling now.

"You teach me such a lot," he said.

He drank his Kummel.

"I always learn something when I talk to a woman. I've learnt something
from you."

Lady Holme did not ask him what it was. She saw that he was now more
intent on her than he had been on Miss Schley, and she got up to go,
feeling more cheerful than she had since she left the _atelier_ of
"Cupido."

"Don't go."

"I must."

"Already! May I come and call?"

"Your father knows my address."

"Oh, I say--but--"

"You're not going already!" cried Mrs. Wolfstein, who was having a
second glass of Benedictine and beginning to talk rather outrageously
and with a more than usually pronounced foreign accent.

"I must, really."

"I'm afraid my son has bored you," murmured Sir Donald, in his worn-out
voice.

"No, I like him," she replied, loud enough for Leo to hear.

Sir Donald did not look particularly gratified at this praise of his
achievement. Lady Holme took an airy leave of everybody. When she came
to Pimpernel Schley she said:

"I wish you a great success, Miss Schley."

"Many thanks," drawled the vestal virgin, who was still looking into her
coffee cup.

"I must come to your first night. Have you ever acted in London?"

"Never."

"You won't be nervous?"

"Nervous! Don't know the word."

She bent to sip her coffee.

When Lady Holme reached the door of the Carlton, and was just entering
one of the revolving cells to gain the pavement, she heard Lady
Cardington's low voice behind her.

"Let me drive you home, dear."

At the moment she felt inclined to be alone. She had even just refused
Sir Donald's earnest request to accompany her to her carriage. Had any
other woman made her this offer she would certainly have refused it. But
few people refused any request of Lady Cardington's. Lady Holme, like
the rest of the world, felt the powerful influence that lay in her
gentleness as a nerve lies in a body. And then had she not wept when
Lady Holme sang a tender song to her? In a moment they were driving up
the Haymarket together in Lady Cardington's barouche.

The weather had grown brighter. Wavering gleams of light broke through
the clouds and lay across the city, giving a peculiarly unctuous look to
the slimy s