On her part, Diana regarded Adrienne with the enthusiastic devotion which an older woman--more especially if she happens to be very beautiful and occupying a somewhat unique position--frequently inspires in one younger than herself, and Olga Lermontof's grave warning might just as well have been uttered to the empty air. Diana's warm-hearted, spontaneous nature swept it aside with an almost passionate loyalty and belief in her new-found friend. Once Miss Lermontof had referred to it rather disagreeably. "So you've decided to make a friend of Miss de Gervais after all?" she said. "Yes. And I think you've misjudged her utterly," Diana warmly assured her. "Of course," she added, sensitively afraid that the other might misconstrue her meaning, "I know you believed what you were saying, and that you only said it out of kindness to me. But you were mistaken--really you were." "Humph!" The Russian's eyes narrowed until they looked like two slits of green fire. "Humph! I was wrong, was I? Nevertheless, I'm perfectly sure that Adrienne de Gervais' past is a closed book to you--although you call yourself her friend!" Diana turned away without reply. It was true--Olga Lermontof had laid a finger on the weak spot in her friendship with Adrienne. The latter never talked to her of her past life; their mutual attachment was built solely around the present, and if by chance any question of Diana's accidentally probed into the past, it was adroitly parried. Even of Adrienne's nationality she was in ignorance, merely understanding, along with the rest of the world, that she was of French extraction. This assumption had probably been founded in the first instance upon her name, and Adrienne never troubled either to confirm or contradict it. Mrs. Adams, her companion-chaperon, always made Diana especially welcome at the house in Somervell Street. "You must come again soon, my dear," she would say cordially. "Adrienne makes few friends--and your visits are such a relaxation to her. The life she leads is rather a strain, you know." At times Diana noticed a curious aloofness in her friend, as though her professional success occupied a position of relatively small importance in her estimation, and once she had commented on it half jokingly. "You don't seem to value your laurels one bit," she had said, as Adrienne contemptuously tossed aside a newspaper containing a eulogy of her claims to distinction which most actresses would have carefully cut out and pasted into their book of critiques. "Fame?" Adrienne had answered. "What is it? Merely the bubble of a day." "Well," returned Diana, laughing, "it's the aim and object of a good many people's lives. It's the bubble I'm in pursuit of, and if I obtain one half the recognition you have had, I shall be very content." Adrienne regarded her musingly. "You will be famous when the name of Adrienne de Gervais is known no longer," she said at last. Diana stared at her in surprise.