Lady Merrenden is coming to lunch to-morrow. I am interested to see her, because Lord Robert said she was such a dear. I wonder what has become of him. He has not been here--I wonder--No, I am _too_ silly. Lady Ver does not get up to breakfast, and I go into her room and have mine on another little tray, and we talk, and she reads me bits out of her letters. She seems to have a number of people in love with her--that must be nice. "It keeps Charlie always devoted," she said, "because he realizes he owns what the other men want." She says, too, that all male creatures are fighters by nature; they don't value things they obtain easily, and which are no trouble to keep. You must always make them realize you will be off like a snipe if they relax their efforts to please you for one moment. Of course there are heaps of humdrum ways of living, where the husband is quite fond, but it does not make his heart beat, and Lady Ver says she couldn't stay on with a man whose heart she couldn't make beat when she wanted to. I am curious to see Sir Charles. They play bridge a good deal in the afternoon, and it amuses me a little to talk nicely to the man who is out for the moment, and make him not want to go back to the game. I am learning a number of things. _Night._ Mr. Carruthers came to call this afternoon. He was the last person I expected to see when I went into the drawing-room after luncheon, to wait for Lady Ver. I had my out-door things on, and a big black hat, which is rather becoming, I am glad to say. "You here!" he exclaimed, as we shook hands. "Yes, why not me?" I said. He looked very self-contained and reserved, I thought, as if he had not the least intention of letting himself go to display any interest. It instantly aroused in me an intention to change all that. "Lady Verningham kindly asked me to spend a few days with her when we left Tryland," I said, demurely. "Oh, you are staying here! Well, I was over at Tryland the day before yesterday--an elaborate invitation from Lady Katherine to 'dine and sleep quietly,' which I only accepted as I thought I should see you." "How good of you," I said, sweetly. "And did they not tell you I had gone with Lady Verningham?" "Nothing of the kind. They merely announced that you had departed for London, so I supposed it was your original design of Claridge's, and I intended going round there some time to find you." Again I said it was so good of him, and I looked down. He did not speak for a second or two, and I remained perfectly still. "What are your plans?" he asked, abruptly. "I have no plans." "But you must have--that is ridiculous--you must have made some decision as to where you are going to live!" "No, I assure you," I said, calmly, "when I leave here on Saturday I shall just get into a cab and think of some place for it to take me to, I suppose, as we turn down Park Lane."