“I think not. I thought I saw him yesterday, there, in the Boulevard du Paradis.” Kreisler nodded over his shoulder, indicating precisely the spot on which they had met. His gesture implied that Lowndes might still be found thereabout. Bertha shrank in “subtle” pantomime from their affability. From the glances she pawed her German friend with, he must deserve nothing but horrified avoidance. Sorbert’s astute and mischievous way of saddling her with Kreisler, accepting their being together as the most natural thing in life, roused her combativity. Tarr honoured him, clearly out of politeness to her. Very well: all she could do for the moment was to be noticeably distant with Kreisler. She must display towards him the disgust and reprobation that Tarr should feel, and which he refused, in order to vex her. * * * * * Kreisler during the last few days had persisted and persisted. He had displayed some cleverness in his choice of means. As a result of overtures and manœuvres, Bertha had now consented to see him. Her demoralization was complete. She could not stand up any longer against the result, personified by Kreisler, of her idiotic actions. At present she transferred her self-hatred from herself to Kreisler. Tarr’s former relations with Bertha were known to him. He resented the Englishman’s air of proprietorship, the sort of pleasant “handing-over” that was going on. It had for object, he thought, to cheapen his little success. * * * * * “I don’t think, Herr Kreisler, I’ll come to dinner after all.” She stood still and rolled her eyes wildly in several directions, and stuck one of her hands stiffly out from her side. “Very well, Fräulein,” he replied evenly.—The dismissal annoyed him. His eyes took in Tarr compendiously in passing. Was this a resuscitation of old love at his expense? Tarr had perhaps come to claim his property. This was not the way that is usually done. “Adieu, Herr Kreisler,” sounded like his dismissal. A “let me see you again; understand that here things end!” was written baldly in her very bald eyes. With irony he bid good day to Tarr. “I hope we shall meet again”: Tarr shook him warmly by the hand. “It is likely,” Kreisler replied at once. As yet Kreisler was undisturbed. He intended not to relinquish his acquaintance with Bertha Lunken. If the Englishman’s amiability were a polite way of reclaiming property left ownerless and therefore susceptible of new rights being deployed as regards it, then in time these _later_ rights would be vindicated. Kreisler’s first impression of Tarr was not flattering. But no doubt they would meet again, as he had said. CHAPTER III Bertha held out her hand brutally, in a sort of spasm of will: said, in the voice of “finality,” “Good-bye, Sorbet: good-bye!” He did not take it. She left it there a moment, saying again, “Good-bye!”