He thought of Craven. Was it possible to make any use of Craven to get him out of his difficulty? Dare he hint at the real reason of his visit to Miss Cronin? He had intended delicately to “sound” the chaperon on the subject of matrimony, to find out if there was anything on the _tapis_ in Paris, if Miss Van Tuyn had any special man friend there, in short to make sure of his ground before deciding to walk on it. But he could hardly explain that to Miss Van Tuyn. To do so would be almost brutal, and quite against all his traditions. Again he caught her eye in the desperate silence. Her gaze seemed to say to him: “When are you going to begin?” He felt that he must say something, even though it were not what she was probably expecting. “I was interested,” he hurriedly began, clasping his beard and looking away from his companion, “to hear the other day that a young friend of mine had met you, a very charming and promising young fellow, who has a great career before him, unless I am much mistaken.” “Who?” she asked; he thought rather curtly. “Alick Craven of the Foreign Office. He told me he was introduced to you at Adela Sellingworth’s.” “Oh yes, he was,” said Miss Van Tuyn. And she said no more. “He was very enthusiastic about you,” ventured Braybrooke, wondering how to interpret her silence. “Really!” “Yes. We belong to the same club, the St. James’s. He entertained me for more than an hour with your praises.” Miss Van Tuyn looked at him with rather acute inquiry, as if she could not make up her mind about something with which he was closely concerned. “He would like to meet you again,” said Braybrooke, with soft firmness. “But I have met him again two or three times. He called on me.” “And I understand you were together in a restaurant in--Soho, I think it was.” “Yes, we were.” “What did you think of him?” asked Braybrooke. As he put the question he was aware that he was being far from subtle. The vision in the distance--now eating plum cake, but still very observant--upset his nervous system and deprived him almost entirely of his usual savoir faire. “He seems quite a nice sort of boy,” said Miss Van Tuyn, still looking rather coldly inquisitive, as if she were secretly puzzled but intended to emerge into complete understanding before she had done with Braybrooke. “His Foreign Office manner is rather against him. But perhaps some day he’ll grow out of that--unless it becomes accentuated.” “If you knew him better I feel sure you would like him. He had no reservations about you--none at all. But, then, how could he have?” “Well, at any rate I haven’t got the Foreign Office manner.” “No, indeed!” said Braybrooke, managing a laugh that just indicated his appreciation of the remark as an excellent little joke. “But it really means nothing.” “That’s a pity. One’s manner should always have a meaning of some kind. Otherwise it is an absolute drawback to one’s personality.”