Miss Van Tuyn thereupon remarked that as some people are born with tempers and intellects and some without them, perhaps it was the same with free will. She was quite positive she had a free will, but the very first time she had seen Sir Robert she had had her doubts about his having that precious possession. This sally, designed to break up the general conversation and to fasten Sir Robert’s attention on herself, led to an animated discussion between her and Mrs. Ackroyde’s “man.” But Mrs. Ackroyde, though her large dark eyes showed complete understanding of the manoeuvre, did not seem to mind, and, turning her attention to Craven, she began to speak about acting. Meanwhile Lady Sellingworth went out into the corridor with Braybrooke to “get a little air.” While Mrs. Ackroyde talked Craven felt that she was thinking about him with an enormously experienced mind. She had been married twice, and was now a widow. No woman knew more about life and the world in a general way than she did. Her complete but quiet self-possession, her rather blunt good nature, and her perfect health, had carried her safely, and as a rule successfully, through multifarious experiences and perhaps through many dangers. It was impossible to conceive of her being ever “knocked out” by any happening however untoward it might be. She was one of the stalwarts of the “old guard.” Craven certainly did not dislike her. But now he felt almost afraid of her. For he knew her present interest in him arose from suspicions about him and Lady Sellingworth which were floating through her brain. She had heard something; had been informed of something; someone had hinted; someone had told. How do such things become suspected in a city like London? Craven could not imagine how the “old guard” had come already to know of his new friendship with Lady Sellingworth. But he was now quite sure that he had been talked about, and that Mrs. Ackroyde was considering him, his temperament, his character, his possibilities in connexion with the famous Adela, once of the “old guard,” but long since traitress to it. And he felt as if he were made of glass beneath those experienced and calmly investigating eyes, as he talked steadily about acting till the bell went for the second act, and Lady Sellingworth and Braybrooke returned to the box. “Come and see me,” said Mrs. Ackroyde, getting up. “You never come near me. And come down to Coombe to lunch one Sunday.” “Thank you very much. I will.” “And bring Adela with you!” With a casual nod or two, and a “Come, Bobbie, I am sure you have flirted quite enough with Beryl by this time!” she went out of the box, followed by her grim but good-looking cavalier. “You must sit in front through this act.” Braybrooke spoke. “Oh, but--” “No, really--I insist! You don’t see properly behind.”