“Oh! good gracious, no! I didn't even know he was going till yesterday, when Roberts asked me about something he was to do during the master's absence. We are quite old married people now, Caroline, and we each go more or less our own way. It saves a lot of trouble. You see, he knew I wouldn't care for Goodwood and the set he's in with there--the Claverings and such like.” “Yes, I think you are better off here,” said Caroline. “I know I am,” replied Clytie, taking her arm. And then they went into the drawing-room. Clytie's first impulse on entering was to look round for Kent. She met his eyes fixed upon her from the other side of the rather crowded room, and she gave him a little nod of greeting. He rose and joined the knot of people who were surrounding her. Both were self-conscious to the extent of knowing that, as they had once been a familiar couple in that company, it would be inexpedient to allow it to be noticed that their meeting was an event to them. They shook hands, with a friendly commonplace, and joined in the general conversation. Redgrave, French, the journalist, Mr. Singleton, Mrs. Tredegar, were there--most of the old faces, a few new ones. To see Kent's among them was a joy to Clytie. She had never understood why he had broken from her. Now and then the true solution passed through her mind, but she rejected it. It was incongruous with his action. Love begets wants, and it is the nature of man to clamour for them. This was her hasty conclusion. But she had avoided thinking very deeply upon the subject, instinctively deeming it wiser to refrain. He had not changed, she thought; and wondered whether he would notice any change in her. She found herself listening again to him as he talked, in his downright, earnest way, quickly noting familiar turns of thought and expression, admiring the thoroughness of his unconventional enthusiasm. The old contented humility of spirit came back to her. How much more real than hers was his life! How much she had learned and could learn from him! And for a short, swift moment the laughter and talk sounded dull in her ears, and all the objects around, all the faces save one, melted away into the blue cigarette smoke, and that one face remained--sitting at a table opposite to her, the lamp between them--and the brows were intent on the sheet over which a quill pen was scratching assiduously; and the surroundings shaped themselves into her old rooms in the King's Road. Then, just as swiftly as it had come, the dream vanished, and Clytie sighed. The talk languished a little. Kent looked somewhat wistfully at her. She leaned forward and beckoned him with a smile and a little upward movement of her chin. “Come down and give me some supper,” she said. “I did not eat anything before coming out.” “That was foolish of you,” he said involuntarily. Then they both laughed. “You are just the same as ever,” she said. And they went downstairs.