Then a deep sense of guilt stole over him. Was he trifling with Eva? He hoped not. But of course there is no denying that the idea of trifling with girls has its own attractions at a certain age. At any rate to feel that you might--and could--is not altogether an unpleasing sensation. However Jeremy's moral sense was very strong--the stronger (as he was in the habit of assuring Alec Turner) for being based on pure reason and the latest results of sociology. Whenever Eva had been particularly sweet and admiring, he felt that he ought not to go to Buckingham Gate again until he had put his relations with Dora Hutting on an ascertained basis. He would knit his brow then, and decline to be enticed from his personal problems by Alec's invitations to general discussion. At this stage of his life he grew decidedly more careful about his dress, not aiming at smartness, but at a rich and sober effect. And all the while he started for Romford at eight in the morning. He was leading a very fine existence. "These are very roseate hues, Kate," Christine Fanshaw observed with delicate criticism as she sipped her tea. Kate had been talking about Eva and hinting benevolently about Jeremy. "Oh, the great trouble's always behind. No, it's not so bad now, thank heaven! But if only he could come back for good! I'm sure we want roseate hues!" "I daresay we do," said Christine, drawing nearer the fire. It was autumn now, and she was always a chilly little body. "Look at those wretched Courtlands! And somehow I don't believe that Grantley's marriage has been altogether successful." She paused a moment, and there had been a questioning inflection in her voice; but Christine made no comment. "For myself I can't complain----" "And you won't get anything out of me, Kate." "But we do want the young people to--to give us the ideal back again." "I suppose the old people have always thought the young people were going to do that. And they never do. They grow into old people--and then the men drink, or the women run away, or something." "No, no," Kate Raymore protested. "I won't believe it, Christine. There's always hope with them, anyhow. They're beginning with the best, anyhow!" "And when they find it isn't the best?" "You're--you're positively sacrilegious!" "And you're disgracefully sentimental." She finished her tea and sat back, regarding her neat boots. "Walter Blake's back in town," she went on. "He's been yachting, hasn't he?" "Yes, for nearly two months. I met him at the Selfords'." A moment's pause followed. "There was some talk----" began Kate Raymore tentatively. "It was nonsense. There's some talk about everybody." Kate laughed. "Oh, come, speak for yourself, Christine." "The Imasons are down in the country." "And Walter Blake's in town? Ah, well!" Kate sighed thankfully. "In town--and at the Selfords'." She spoke with evident significance. Kate raised her brows. "Well, it can't be Janet Selford, can it?" smiled Christine.