At the door of the Cafe Royal they stopped, and Miss Van Tuyn laid a hand on Lady Sellingworth’s arm. “Do come in, dearest. It will really amuse you,” she said urgently. “And--I’ll be truthful--I want to show you off to the Georgians as my friend. I want them to know how wonderful an Edwardian can be.” “Please--please!” pleaded Jennings from under his sombrero. “Dick would revel in you. You would whip him into brilliance. I know it. You admire his work, surely?” “I admire it very much.” “And he is more wonderful still when he’s drunk. And to-night--I feel it--he will be drunk. I pledge myself that Dick Garstin will be drunk.” “I’m sure it would be a very great privilege to see Mr. Garstin drunk. But I must go home. Good night, dear Beryl.” “But the little Bolshevik! You must meet the little Bolshevik!” cried Jennings. Lady Sellingworth shook her deer-like head, smiling. “Good night, Mr. Craven.” “But he is going to get you a taxi,” said Miss Van Tuyn. “Yes, and if you will allow me I am going to leave you at your door,” said Craven, with decision. A line appeared in Miss Van Tuyn’s low forehead, but she only said: “And then you will come back and join us.” “Thank you,” said Craven. He took off his hat. Miss Van Tuyn gave him a long and eloquent look, which was really not unlike a Leap Year proposal. Then she entered the cafe with Jennings. Craven thought at that moment that her back looked unusually rigid. A taxi was passing. He held up his hand. It stopped. Lady Sellingworth and he got in, after he had given the address to the chauffeur. “What a lovely girl Beryl Van Tuyn is!” said Lady Sellingworth, as they drove off. “She is--very lovely.” “And she has a lot of courage, moral courage.” “Is it?” he could not help saying. “Yes. She lives as she chooses to live. And yet she isn’t married.” “Would marriage make it all easier for her?” “Much, if she married the man who suited her.” “I wonder what sort of a man that would be.” “So does she, I think. But she’s a strange girl. I should not be surprised if she were never to marry at all.” “Don’t you think she would fall in love?” “Yes. For I think every living woman is capable of that. But she has the sort of intellect which would not be tricked for very long by the heart. Any weakness of hers would soon be over, I fancy.” “I dare say you are right. In fact I believe you are generally right. She told me you were a book of wisdom. And I feel that it is true.” “Here is Berkeley Square.” “How wrong it is of these chauffeurs to drive so fast! It is almost as bad as in Paris. They defy the law. I should like to have this man up.” He got out. She followed him, looking immensely tall in the dimness. “I am not going back to the Cafe Royal,” he said. “But it will be amusing. And I think they are certainly expecting you.” “I am not going there.” She rang. Instantly the door was opened by the handsome middle-aged butler.