Craven explained. Miss Van Tuyn listened with an intensity of interest which flattered him. He began to think her quite lovely, and she saw the pretty thought in his mind. When he had finished she said: “No attempt to recover the lost jewels, the desertion of Paris, the sudden change into old age! What do you make of it?” “I can make nothing. Unless the chagrin she felt made her throw up everything in a fit of anger. And then, of course, once the thing was done she couldn’t go back.” “You mean--go back to the Edwardian youthfulness she had abandoned?” “Yes. One may refuse to grow old, but once one has become definitely, ruthlessly old, it’s practically impossible to jump back to a pretence of the thirties.” “Of course. It would frighten people. But--it wasn’t that.” “No?” “No. For if she had felt the loss of her jewels so much as you suggest, she would have made every effort to recover them.” “I suppose she would.” “The heart of the mystery lies in her not wishing to try to get the jewels back. That, to me, is inexplicable. Because we women love jewels. And no woman carries about jewels worth fifty thousand pounds without caring very much for them.” “Just what I have thought,” said Craven. After a short silence he added: “Could Lady Sellingworth possibly have known who had stolen the jewels, do you think?” “What! And refrained from denouncing the thief!” “She might have had a reason.” Miss Van Tuyn’s keen though still girlish eyes looked sharply into Craven’s for an instant. “I believe you men, you modern men are very apt to think terrible things about women,” she said. Craven warmly defended himself against this abrupt accusation. “Well, but what did you mean?” persisted Miss Van Tuyn. “Now, go against your sex and be truthful for once to a woman.” “I really don’t know exactly what I meant,” said Craven. “But I suppose it’s possible to conceive of circumstances in which a woman might know the identity of a thief and yet not wish to prosecute.” “Very well. I’ll let you alone,” she rejoined. “But this mystery makes Lady Sellingworth more fascinating to me than ever. I’m not particularly curious about other people. I’m too busy about myself for that. But I would give a great deal to know a little more of her truth. Do you remember her remark when I said ‘I wish I had known you then’?” “Yes. She said, ‘You would not have known _me_ then.’” “There have been two Adela Sellingworths. And I only know one. I do want to know the other. But I am almost sure I never shall. And yet she’s fond of me. I know that. She likes my being devoted to her. I feel she’s a book of wisdom, and I have only read a few pages.” She walked on quickly with her light, athletic step. Just as they were passing Hyde Park Corner she said: “I think I shall go to one of the ‘old guard.’” “Why?” asked Craven. “You ask questions to which you know the answers,” she retorted. And then they talked of other things.