You had been clever enough to find out the address--the house, by the way, Arthur did _not_ give her. She told me so, but without that I knew enough of his finances to realize that it was physically impossible--; and all the way there I tried to understand this strange streak which apparently runs through all men. The old phrase: "Sowing one's wild oats." ... When I married Arthur, he had never had an _affaire_ of _any_ kind with _any_ one; and so for thirty years. Am I very cynical in thinking that perhaps it would have been better if he _had_? ... Spenworth, on the other hand, had been tossed from one woman's arms to another's ever since he was a lad at Eton. You entered his house and never knew whom you would find at the head of his table--except that it would not be the one you had seen there a month before; the only difference that marriage made to him was that, while Kathleen sat at the head of his table, he dined elsewhere. Now that he has married again in middle life, one has no sort of guarantee. It seems impossible to frame _any_ rules for a man of that age... I had not spoken to Arthur beforehand, of course. He would have spoiled everything. What I wanted was a cold, passionless talk with this Mrs. Templedown. Two women, even in _our_ position, could understand each other: neither of us wanted a scandal, I was prepared to admit even that she might be genuinely fond of Arthur and would try--according to her lights--to do the best for him. I need hardly say that I did not dream of intimidating--Arthur was her _property_--nor of bribing--goodness me, what had I to offer? Nor did I feel constrained to beg for mercy or to ask what manner of life she proposed to leave for me. I hardly think that _pride_ held me in check, but--somehow--to go on one's knees to a young woman who started life on the stage was hardly... Well, as my boy would say, "It is not done." I knew she was clever, I hoped to find her sensible; and then the only thing was to decide what to _do_... Of course I did not send up my name... "Say that a lady wishes to see her," I told the maid. And I was shewn upstairs readily enough. _Not_ into the drawing-room; I think that class of person lives entirely in her bedroom. She was lying on the sofa in a kimono and--so far as I could judge from the generous opportunities which she insisted on giving me--nothing else; a lovely animal, as she was at pains that I should see, with perfect skin, a great mane of copper hair and golden-brown eyes. Very red lips, very white teeth; I was reminded of a soft, beautiful lion-cub. She moved and stretched herself like an animal, speaking as though she were only half-awake. I don't think she could have been more than twenty. She left the stage to marry a man in the Air Force, I understand, and he was killed at the end of the war, leaving her very ill-provided-for... "Seductive" was the word I was trying to think of...