But caution was necessary in the first steps, for it would be hard to explain to Stephen what the proposed relationship was, and she could not imagine herself saying “We are going to pretend to be lovers, but we aren’t.” It would be quite dreadful if he misunderstood and unexpectedly imprinted on her lips or even her hand a hot lascivious kiss, but up till now he certainly had not shewn the smallest desire to do anything of the sort. She would never be able to see him again if he did that, and the world would probably say that he had dropped her. But she knew she couldn’t explain the proposed position to him and he would have to guess: she could only give him a lead and must trust to his intelligence, and to the absence in him of any unsuspected amorous proclivities. She would begin gently, anyhow, and have him to dinner every day that she was at home. And really it would be very pleasant for him, for she was entertaining a great deal during this next week or two, and if he only did not yield to one of those rash and turbulent impulses of the male, all would be well. Georgie, until (so Lucia put it to herself) Olga had come between them, had done it beautifully, and Stephen was rather like Georgie. As for herself, she knew she could trust her firm slow pulses never to beat wild measures for anybody. * * * * * She reached home to find that Adele had already arrived, and pausing only to tell her servant to ring up Stephen and ask him to come round at once, she went upstairs. “Dearest Adele,” she said, “a million pardons. I have been in the Divorce Court all day. Too thrilled. Babs, dear Babs Shyton, was wonderful. They got nothing out of her at all----” “No: Lord Middlesex has got everything out of her already,” observed Adele. “Ah, how can you say that?” said Lucia. “Lord Middlesex--Woof-dog, you know--was just as wonderful. I feel sure the jury will believe them. Dear Babs! I must get her to come here some night soon and have a friendly little party for her. Think of that horrid old man who had lunch in the middle of the night! How terrible for her to have to go back to him. Dear me, what is her address?” “She may not have to go back to him,” said Adele. “If so, ‘care of Woof-dog’ would probably find her.” Adele had been feeling rather cross. Her husband had announced his intention of visiting his friends and relatives in England, and she did not feel inclined to make a corresponding journey to America. But as Lucia went on, she forgot these minor troubles, and became enthralled. Though she was still talking about Babs and Woof-dog, Adele felt sure these were only symbols, like the dreams of psycho-analysts. “My sympathy is entirely with dear Babs,” she said. “Think of her position with that dreadful old wretch. A woman surely may be pardoned, even if the jury don’t believe her for----” “Of course she may,” said Adele with a final spurt of ill-temper. “What she’s not pardoned for is being found out.”