“Perhaps. Where does one go when one wants to run away from oneself?” And then she changed the conversation and talked, as she generally talked to Sir Seymour, of the life they both knew, of the doings at Court, of politics, people, the state of the country, what was likely to come to old England. She had decided against Seymour. But she had not decided for Craven. After a moment of despair, of feeling herself lost, she had suddenly said to herself, or a voice had said in her, a voice coming from she knew not where: “I will remain free, but henceforth I will be my own mistress in freedom, not the slave of myself.” And then mentally she had dismissed both Seymour and Craven out of her life, the one as a possible husband, the other as a friend. If she could not bring herself to take the one, then she would not keep the other. She must seek for peace in loneliness. Evidently that was her destiny. She gave herself to it with mocking eyes and despair in her heart. PART FIVE CHAPTER I Three days later, soon after four o’clock, Craven rang the bell at Lady Sellingworth’s door. As he stood for a moment waiting for it to be answered he wondered whether she would be at home to him, how she would greet him if she chose to see him. The door was opened by a footman. “Is her ladyship at home?” “Her ladyship has gone out of town, sir.” “When will she be back?” “I couldn’t say, sir. Her ladyship has gone abroad.” Craven stood for a moment without speaking. He was amazed, and felt as if he had received a blow. Finally, he said: “Do you think she will be long away?” “Her ladyship has gone for some time, sir, I believe.” The young man’s face, firm, with rosy cheeks and shallow, blue eyes, was strangely inexpressive. Craven hesitated, then said: “Do you know where her ladyship has gone? I--I wish to write a note to her.” “I believe it’s some place near Monte Carlo, sir. Her ladyship gave orders that no letters were to be forwarded for the present.” “Thank you.”