"And why," said Lady Touchstone, "are you going away?" Anthony laughed jerkily. "Have a heart, Lady Touchstone," he cried. "I've already risked imprisonment to save my secret." Her ladyship looked about her. "This," she said, "appears to be the interior of an expensive limousine landaulette. Very different from a court-house. The seats are softer, for one thing. Besides, from his adviser the client should conceal nothing." "Are you my adviser?" "That," said Lady Touchstone, "is my role." "But am I your client?" "I advise you to be." For a long moment Lyveden stared straight ahead. Upon the front seat Miss French was chattering to George Alison with an unwonted liveliness, punctuated with little bursts of merriment. All the while she kept her head so turned that Anthony might miss not a jot of her gaiety.... "I'm sorry," said Lyveden quietly. "You're very kind, Lady Touchstone, and I'm properly grateful. But I can't tell you." He was, of course, perfectly right. Intervention was not to be thought of, much less encouraged. For one thing, to mutter that Valerie and he were estranged would be to proclaim a previous intimacy. For another, it was an affair, not of hearts only, but of deeps calling. Each lifting up the other's heart, the twain had distilled a music that is not of this world: it was unthinkable that an outsider should be shown a single note of the score. Finally, Anthony wanted no peace-making. What had he to do with peace? The silver cord was loosed, but he had not loosed it. The golden bowl was broken, but not at his hand. It was she--Valerie French--that had wrought the havoc. That cord and bowl were the property as much of Anthony as of her had not weighed with the lady. As if this were not enough, he was to be used like a leper.... What had he to do with peace? The thought that he had been able to pick up the glove she had thrown down with such a flourish elated him strangely. To kiss My Lady Disdain upon the mouth--that was an answer. That would teach her to draw upon an unarmed man. For she had thought him weaponless. What footman carries a sword? And then, in the nick of time, Fate had thrust a rapier into the flunkey's hand.... Lady Touchstone was speaking.... "Well, well," she said gently, "perhaps you're right. I'm sorry, you know. I saw two lives smashed once by a clerical error on the part of a florist's assistant. I knew them both, too, but neither would speak. When it was just too late, Eleanor opened her mouth.... Unknown to her, I went to the florist's shop and looked at their order-book. Sure enough, there was the trouble. I never told her, of course. But it's haunted me ever since. Two lives ... smashed.... And they say that silence is golden.... When you do go, will you let me have your address?" "I can imagine nothing more worthless," said Anthony. "But I think I've been rude enough. I promise to send it you."