Dick slowly drew out his watch. “Five-and-twenty past.” Kingslake threw away his half-smoked cigarette, and began to light another one. Mayne watched him. “Do you know this lady who is coming to lunch?” he asked, carelessly. The match burnt Kingslake’s fingers as he raised his head, and he uttered a hasty observation. “I met her the other day in town,” he added, as a pendant. “Is _she_ a modern woman?” asked Mayne. The casualness of his tone reassured Robert. “Yes,” he returned, emphatically. “At least I should imagine so. She’s an artist. Has a studio of her own, and so forth. She’s had a hard time of it, poor girl....” He looked meditatively at the glowing end of his cigarette. “_There’s_ a woman now,” he broke out, “who has an absolute, a perfectly disinterested love of art for its own sake. She’s a case in point.” “Did she tell you so?” “Yes,” returned Robert, unguardedly, warming to his subject. “She doesn’t think of love; she doesn’t want it. She looks upon it as unnecessary--a hindrance--a barrier to her intellectual life.” “Rather a communicative young lady, eh?” was Mayne’s comment. Robert flushed. “Oh, in the course of conversation....” he began, hurriedly. He was cut short by Diana, who emerged from the porch with a tray of cut flowers. “I’m going to do them out here,” she began. “It’s too boiling for anything in the house. Robert!” as her eyes fell upon him, “why are you idling here? Out for five minutes’ play, I suppose. That’s right. Get back to your work like a good little fellow, and see what an industrious boy you can be. It’s not nearly lunch-time yet.” Robert smiled indulgently. “Quite right. I’m frightfully slack to-day somehow,” he said, as he turned towards the study. “This beastly heat, I suppose.” Diana gave a mischievous chuckle as he disappeared. “I do love to watch the celebrity at home,” she said in a low voice, choked with laughter. “Robert’s not done a _stroke_ of work this morning. He’s been looking out of the window with a yearning gaze, like this.” She made one of her inimitable faces. Mayne grinned. “As a sister-in-law, Diana, you are a treasure.” “There’s the bell!” exclaimed the girl. “That means the History-Book, I expect. I wonder whether Cecily’s ready. I hope she’s putting on her blue muslin. I told her to. Come along! We must go and see her, I suppose.” Within, Cecily was going forward to meet her guest. The women exchanged a swift glance of mutual interest, while Philippa impulsively put out both hands. Cecily took one of them, and ignored the inclination of Philippa’s face towards hers. “How do you do? I hope you are not very tired?” she began. “Cecily!” cried Philippa, rapturously. “After all these years!” “Yes, but they had to pass, did they not?” returned her hostess in a matter-of-fact tone. “I’m so sorry you’ve been ill. But you are better, surely? If you hate looking ill as much as I do, I’m sure you’ll like to be told that it doesn’t show.”