“Now,” he said, “it would be very curious and complicating if that were true; but I don't believe it is. Palliser, of course, likes to tell a good story. I shall be able to discover in time whether it is true or not; but at present I don't believe it.” Following the dinner party at Stone Hover came many others. All the well-known carriages began to roll up the avenue to Temple Barholm. The Temple Barholm carriages also began to roll down the avenue and between the stone griffins on their way to festive gatherings of varied order. Burrill and the footmen ventured to reconsider their early plans for giving warning. It wasn't so bad if the country was going to take him up. “Do you see what is happening?” Lady Mallowe said to Joan. “The man is becoming actually popular.” “He is popular as a turn at a music hall is,” answered Joan. “He will be dropped as he was taken up.” “There's something about him they like, and he represents what everybody most wants. For God's sake! Joan, don't behave like a fool this time. The case is more desperate. There is nothing else--nothing.” “There never was,” said Joan, “and I know the desperateness of the case. How long are you going to stay here?” “I am going to stay for some time. They are not conventional people. It can be managed very well. We are relatives.” “Will you stay,” inquired Joan in a low voice, “until they ask you to remove yourself?” Lady Mallowe smiled an agreeably subtle smile. “Not quite that,” she answered. “Miss Alicia would never have the courage to suggest it. It takes courage and sophistication to do that sort of thing. Mr. Temple Barholm evidently wants us to remain. He will be willing to make as much of the relationship as we choose to let him.” “Do you choose to let him make as much of it as will establish us here for weeks--or months?” Joan asked, her low voice shaking a little. “That will depend entirely upon circumstances. It will, in fact, depend entirely upon you,” said Lady Mallowe, her lips setting themselves into a straight, thin line. For an appreciable moment Joan was silent; but after it she lost her head and whirled about. “I shall go away,” she cried. “Where?” asked Lady Mallowe. “Back to London.” “How much money have you?” asked her mother. She knew she had none. She was always sufficiently shrewd to see that she had none. If the girl had had a pound a week of her own, her mother had always realized that she would have been unmanageable. After the Jem Temple Barholm affair she would have been capable of going to live alone in slums. As it was, she knew enough to be aware that she was too handsome to walk out into Piccadilly without a penny in her pocket; so it had been just possible to keep her indoors.