Yes, he thought, she was an extraordinary woman! There was nobody like her: in his opinion she was thrown away on Percy. But _she_ did not think so, and he envied, hated the husband, with an absurd bitterness--envied him for several reasons, but chiefly because Nigel had now developed what had been in abeyance at the time of their youthful engagement--that real sensuous discrimination, which has comparatively little to do with taste for beauty, that power of weighing amorous values, given only to the authentic Sybarite. * * * * * On the day arranged for the Russian Ballet party, Nigel made an excuse for seeing Bertha to arrange tactics with regard to Rupert and Madeline. She told him she was expecting the Futurist painter, the Italian, Semolini, but she received him first. "About Rupert, now," said Nigel. "Isn't it odd?--I always think of Rupert with a rapier concealed somewhere about his person. Ruperts and rapiers are inseparably associated in my mind. Well--shall I, after supper, drive back with Rupert and praise up Miss Irwin--or not?" "Yes, if you think it is a good thing." "_If_ I think it's a good thing! Nothing in the world has such a good effect on a man as the admiration of another man for the girl he admires." "But don't do too much digging in the ribs--don't overdo it. Rupert, though he doesn't carry a rapier, isn't quite a modern cynical man, and with all his affectations I believe he has a very sweet nature. He'll be good to Madeline--I want her to be happy." "Well, at any rate, if she likes him she may as well have her fling at him," said Nigel carelessly. Bertha looked annoyed. "That isn't the point only--silly! If she liked _you_ ever so much and you were free, do you suppose I would take her side--help her?" "I hope not," said Nigel insinuatingly, suddenly changing his seat to one close to Bertha. She looked calmly away, as if bored. He saw it was the wrong tone and stood up, with his back to the mantelpiece, looking at her. "I like your frock, Bertha." She looked down at it. "You have an extraordinary air of not knowing what you have got on. I never saw a woman look so unconscious of her dress. There's a good deal of the art that conceals art about it, I fancy. Your clothes are attractive--in an impressionist way!" "The only thing I think of about my dresses, is that they should make people admire me--not my dressmaker," said Bertha candidly. "I don't care for much variety, and I leave real smartness to Madeline and the other tall, slim girls. My figure is so wrong! How dare I be short and tiny, and yet not thin, nowadays?" "You're exquisite--at least in my opinion. I've never been an admirer of the lamp-post as the type of a woman's figure." She looked bored again. "Oh, please don't! I don't care what you like--so long as you like Mary, who was very graceful and _chic_, I thought, the other night at the opera." It was Nigel's turn to look bored.