“Oh, I don’t know,” she said lightly. “Don’t take it too seriously. I only know from old experience that men never can be made to realize how susceptible women are except where they themselves are concerned.”

“Even when they love a person?” he enquired.

“What is love?” said Mrs. Solent.

He was silent; and the conversation between them took a less personal tone, till he saw her safely mounted in Mr. Urquhart’s dogcart, beside the tall manservant.

Instead of going straight home, he walked meditatively and slowly past the Malakite bookshop, and then at a more rapid pace followed the road that led up Babylon Hill. He did not turn, till, in the slanting rays of the sinking sun, he reached that corner of the ascent which he had noted from Christie’s window.