"Oh, not particularly, but I am tired. But you'll rest me, if you'll sit there, and not mind if I don't talk much." However, she went on talking. "There are some people whom one likes and admires tremendously, and yet who are rather--well, exacting, aren't there?" Sir Axel would have been dull not to surmise that his friend had had recent experience of some such person as she described. "No, exacting isn't quite the word I want. I mean, they take their own point of view so strongly that it's really a struggle--a downright struggle--to make them see that there may be another." "I know the sort of fellow. My Scotch gardener's one of 'em." "Well, I don't know your Scotch gardener, but I do know one or two men of the sort." "I should think you could stand up for yourself!" His glance was one of friendly appreciation of her--and of her appearance. She certainly looked well in the firelight. "Oh, I think I can, but one doesn't want always to be having to do it." "Not good enough to live with people like that, Lady Rosaline!" He meant no personal reference, but his companion had little difficulty in finding a personal application. Her eyes wandered from the fire and settled on his face in a meditative gaze. "Unless, I mean, you were quite sure of coming out on top. And even then--well, I hate rows, anyhow." "So do I--even when I win, Sir Axel! I do so agree with you." The eyes took on a grateful look. Sir Axel was making a more favourable impression than the good man had any idea of. Cyril Maxon was responsible for Sir Axel's success this afternoon; it was a true instinct that had led Lady Rosaline to make a second appointment! Her nerves were soothed; her weariness passed into a pleasant languor. She smiled at him indolently, in peaceful contentment. "When did you say you were off?" she inquired. In asking when he might come to see her, he had founded his plea on the ground of an early departure from London. "Next Tuesday. I'm looking forward to it. I've never seen Venice. I shall be at Danieli's." "Now did I ask for your address, Sir Axel?" He laughed. "Oh, I was playing my own hand. I thought perhaps, if I couldn't stand my own society all the time, you'd let me pay a call on you at the Lakes on my way back." Lady Rosaline and Mrs. Ladd had planned an absolutely quiet time at the Italian Lakes. But, then, Sir Axel was absolutely quiet--after Cyril Maxon. "Well, I might go so far as to send you an address. Don't consider it a command--or even an invitation!" "You see, I don't know a soul out there, and can't speak a word of the language." "Well, if absolute desperation drives you to our door, perhaps we'll let you stay a little." "Oh, I say, I didn't quite mean that!" "The fact is, you're not very good at pretty speeches, are you? But I don't mind that--and you know I should always be glad to see you."