"Oh no! He has never told me anything. But then, he would." "That is just the same, you know." "What makes you think there is anything wrong?" asked Vanbrugh, changing his tone and growing serious in his turn. "So many things--it is dreadful! What o'clock is it?" "Ten minutes to one." "Have you time for another turn before I go in?" "Of course--all the time. We can walk round Gramercy Park and down Irving Place." Instinctively both were silent as they passed the door of Marion Darche's house and did not resume their conversation till they were twenty paces further down the street. Then Vanbrugh was the first to speak. "If it is possible for you and me to talk seriously about anything, Miss Maylands, I should like to speak to you about the Darches." "I will make a supreme effort and try to be serious. As for you--" Dolly glanced at Vanbrugh, smiled and shook her head, as though to signify that his case was perfectly hopeless. "I shall do well enough," he answered, "I am used to gravity. It does not upset my nerves as it does yours." "You shall not say that gravity upsets my nerves!" "Shall not? Why not?" inquired Vanbrugh. Dolly walked more slowly, putting down her feet with a little emphasis, so to say. "Because I say you shall not. That ought to be enough." "Considering that you can stand idiot asylums, kindergartens, school children, the rector and the hope of the life to come, and are still alive enough to dance every night, your nerves ought to be good. But I did not mean to be offensive--only a little wholesome glass of truth as an appetiser before Mrs. Darche's luncheon." "Puns make me positively ill at this hour!" "I will never do it again--never, never." "You are not making much progress in talking seriously about the Darches. I believe it was for that purpose that you proposed to drag me round and round this hideous place, amongst the babies and the nurses and the small yellow dogs--there goes one!" "Yes--as you say--there he goes, doomed to destruction in the pound. Be sorry for him. Show a little sympathy--poor beast! Drowning is not pleasant in this weather." "Oh you do not really think he will be drowned?" "No. I think not. If you look, you will see that he is a private dog, so to say, though he is small and yellow. He is also tied to the back of the perambulator--look--the fact is proved by his having got through the railings and almost upset the baby and the nurse by stopping them short. Keep your sympathy for the next dog, and let us talk about the Darches, if you and I can stop chaffing." "Speak for yourself, Mr. Vanbrugh. You frightened me by telling me the creature was to be drowned." "Very well. I apologise. Since he is to live, what do you think is the matter with the Darche establishment? Let me put the questions. Is old Simon Darche in his right mind, so as to understand what is going on? Is John Darche acting honestly by the Company--and by other people? Is Mrs. Darche happy?"