One of the musicians came up to their table, and inquired whether the _signora_ would like any special thing played. Lady Sellingworth shook her head. She was afraid of their songs of the South, and dared not choose one. “Anything you like!” she said. “They are all much the same,” she added to Craven. “But I thought you were so fond of the songs of Naples and the Bay. Don’t you remember that first evening when--” “Yes, I remember,” she interrupted him, almost sharply. “But still these songs are really all very much alike. They all express the same sort of thing--Neapolitan desires.” “And not only Neapolitan desires, I should say,” said Craven. At that moment a hard look came into his eyes, a grimness altered his mouth. His face completely changed, evidently under the influence of some sudden and keen gust of feeling. He slightly bent his head, and the colour rose in his cheeks. Lady Sellingworth who, for the moment, had been wholly intent on Craven, now looked to see what had caused this sudden and evidently uncontrollable exhibition of feeling. She saw two people, a tall girl and a man, walking down the restaurant towards the further end. The girl she immediately recognized. “Oh--there’s Beryl!” she said. Her heart sank as she looked at Craven. “Yes,” he said. “Did she see me?” “I don’t know. Probably she did. But she seemed in a hurry.” “Oh! Whom is she with?” “That fellow they are all talking about, Arabian. At least, I suppose so. Anyhow, it’s the fellow I saw in Glebe Place. Ah, there they go with _Sole mio_!” The musicians were beginning the melody of which Italians never seem to weary. Lady Sellingworth listened to it as she looked down the long and narrow room now crowded with people. Beryl Van Tuyn was standing by a table near the wall. Lady Sellingworth saw her in profile. Her companion stood beside her with his back to the room. Lady Sellingworth noticed that he was tall with an athletic figure, that he was broad-shouldered, that his head was covered with thickly growing brown hair. He gave her the impression of a strong and good-looking man. She gazed at him with an interest she scarcely understood at that moment, an interest surely more intense than even the gossip she had heard about him warranted. He helped Miss Van Tuyn out of her coat, then took off his, and went to hang them on a stand against the wall. In doing this he turned, and for a moment showed his profile to Lady Sellingworth. She saw the line of his brown face, his arm raised, his head slightly thrown back.