n a mean minority.

Robin Pierce was angry too, but not with so much single-heartedness as
was Sir Donald. It could not quite displease him if the Holmes drifted
apart. Yet he was fond enough of Lady Holme, and he was subtle enough,
to be sorry for any sorrow of hers, and to understand it--at any rate,
partially--without much explanation. Perhaps he would have been more
sorry if Leo Ulford had not come into Lady Holme's life, and if the
defiance within her had not driven her into an intimacy that distressed
Mrs. Leo and puzzled Sir Donald.

Robin's time in London was very nearly at an end. The season was at its
height. Every day was crowded with engagements. It was almost impossible
to find a quiet moment even to give to a loved one. But Robin was
determined to have at least one hour with Lady Holme before he started
for Italy. He told her so, and begged her to arrange it. She put him off
again and again, then at last made an engagement, then broke it. In her
present condition of mind to break faith with a man was a pleasure with
a bitter savour. But Robin was not to be permanently avoided. He had
obstinacy. He meant to have his hour, and perhaps Lady Holme always
secretly meant that he should have it. At any rate she made another
appointment and kept it.

She came one afternoon to his house in Half Moon Street. She had never
been there before. She had never meant to go there. To do so was an
imprudence. That fact was another of the pleasures with a bitter savour.

Robin met her at the head of the stairs, with an air of still excitement
not common in his look and bearing. He followed her into the blue room
where Sir Donald had talked with Carey. The "_Danseuse de Tunisie_"
still presided over it, holding her little marble fan. The open
fireplace was filled with roses. The tea-table was already set by the
great square couch. Robin shut the door and took out a matchbox.

"I am going to make tea," he said.

"Bachelor fashion?"

She sat down on the couch and looked round quickly, taking in all the
details of the room. He saw her eyes rest on the woman with the fan, but
she said nothing about it. He lit a silver spirit lamp and then sat down
beside her.

"At last!" he said.

Lady Holme leaned back in her corner. She was dressed in black, with a
small, rather impertinent black toque, in which one pale blue wing of a
bird stood up. Her face looked gay and soft, and Robin, who had cunning,
recognised that quality of