"Well, you are right there," Jones, lighting another cigarette, replied. "But there is nothing incoherent in the fact that fear is magnetic. What we dread, we attract. If our winning young friend fears the pitcher, the pitcher will probably land on him. That is the reason why, to vary your various metaphors, I declared that there would be no downing on the racecourse. On the contrary and look here. I will wager you not one pippin or two pippins, I will go so far as to lay a whole basket that Miss Austen becomes Mrs. Lennox." Verelst sniffed. "You don't know her mother." "No. I have not that honour. But I enjoy a bowing acquaintance with logic." "Do you, now? I wonder if it bows back. I'll book your bet." "Very good. Make it fancy pippins." Verelst stood up. "Fancy is the only term that could be applied them." "And of such is the Kingdom of Heaven," Jones told himself as the old man moved away. He looked about. The great room had filled. Stocks, money, war, the odour of alcohol, the smell of cigars, the rustling of evening papers, the sound of animated talk about nothing whatever, the usual atmosphere had reassembled itself. From it he turned to the window, to the westering sun, to the motors, the smart gowns and the women who looked so delightful and of whom all had their secrets--secrets trivial, momentous, perverse or merely horrible. Again he turned. Lennox, who had approached, was addressing him. "You were at the law school. I have to make a will. Will you help me?" Serviceably Jones sprang up. "Come to my shop. It is just around the corner." XXIV Among the old brocades with which the room was fitted and which, together with the silver bed and the enamelled faience, gave it an earlier century air, Cassy stood before a cheval-glass. She was properly dressed. Her costume, light cloth, faintly blue, was exquisitely embroidered. Beneath it was lingerie of the kind which, it is said, may be drawn through a ring. Behind and between was Cassy, on whose docked hair sat a hat that was very unbecoming and therefore equally smart. A moment before she had thanked and dismissed Emma. Emma was the maid. With a slant of the eye, that said and suppressed many things, Emma had gone. Through the open windows came the call of birds, the smell of fresh turf. A patch of sky was visible. It was tenderly blue. There was a patch too of grass that showed an asparagus green. From the mirror Cassy went to a table and, from a jade platter, took a ring. It was made of six little hoops each set with small stones. She put it on. The platter held other rings. There was a sapphire, inch-long, deep and dark. She put that on. There was also an Australian opal and an Asian emerald, the latter greener than the grass. She put these on. Together with the wedding-ring they made quite a show. Too much of a show, she thought.