"But if it's of any interest to you, just come here as often as you like in your spare time--either to tea with Mrs. Rossiter or to see me at work on my experiments. I've taken a great liking to you, if you'll allow me to say so. I think there's good stuff in you. A young man reading for the Bar in London is none the worse for a few friends. He must often feel pretty lonely on a Sunday, for example. And he may also--now I'm going to be impertinent and paternal again--he may also pick up undesirable acquaintances, male--and female. Don't you get feeling lonely, with your home far away in Wales. Consider yourself free of this place at any rate, and my wife and I can introduce you to some other people you might like to know. I might introduce you to Mark Stansfield the Q.C. Do you know any one in London, by the bye?" "Oh yes," said David, smiling with all but one tear dried on a still coloured cheek. "I know Honoria Fraser--I know Mr. Praed the architect--" "The A.R.A.? Of course; you or your father said you had been his pupil. H'm. Praed. Yes, I visualize him. Rather a dilettante--whimsical--I didn't like what I heard of him at one time. However it's no affair of mine. And Honoria Fraser! She's simply one of the best women I know. It's curious she wasn't here--At least I didn't see her--this afternoon. She's a friend of my wife's. I knew her when she was at Newnham. She had a great friend--what was it? Violet? No, Vera? Vivien--yes that was it, _Vivien_ Warren. Of course! Why that business she started for women in the City somewhere is called _Fraser and Warren_. She was always wanting to bring this Vivien Warren here. Said she had such a pretty colouring. I own I rather like to see a pretty woman. But she didn't come" (pulls at his pipe and thrusts another cigarette on David). "Went abroad. Seemed rather morose. Some one who came with Honoria said she had a bad mother, and Honoria very rightly shut him up. By the bye, _where_ and _how_ did you come to meet Honoria first?" (David was on the point of saying--he was so unstrung--"Why we were at Newnham together." Then resolved to tell another whopper--Indeed I am told there is a fascination in certain circumstances about lying--and replied): "Vivien Warren was my cousin. She was a Vavasour on her mother's side--from South Wales--and my mother was a Vavasour too--" And as the disguised Vivie said this, some inkling came into her mind that there _was_ a real relationship between Catharine Warren _nee_ Vavasour and the Mary Vavasour who was David's mother. A spasm of joy flashed through her at the possibility of her story being in some slight degree true. "I see," said Rossiter, satisfied, and feeling now that the interview had lasted long enough and that there would be just time to glance at his assistant's afternoon work before he dressed for dinner....