"Not at all, thank you. Rude health and I continue to link arms." "Then it is not by chance that you absent yourself from the various festivities where your part is usually supposed to be a leading one?" "All cooks eventually develop a distaste for their own concoctions," he explained gravely. She lifted her eyebrows: "Yet you are here this afternoon." "Oh, yes. Charity has not yet palled on my palate--perhaps because I need so much myself." "I have never considered you an object of charity." "Then I must draw your kind attention to my pitiable case by doing a little begging.... Could I ask your forgiveness, for example? And perhaps obtain it?" Her face flushed. "I have nothing to forgive you, Mr. Quarren," she said with decision. "Do you mean that?" "Certainly." "I scarcely know how to take your--generosity." "I offer none. There is no occasion for generosity or for the exercise of any virtue, cardinal or otherwise. You have not offended me, nor I you--I trust.... Have I?" "No," he said. Men came up to speak to her; one or two women nodded to her from nearby groups which presently mingled, definitely separating her from Quarren unless either he or she chose to evade the natural trend of things. Neither made the effort. Then Sir Charles Mallison joined her, and Quarren, smilingly accepting that gentleman's advent as his own congé, took his leave of Strelsa and went his way--which chanced, also, to be the way of Mrs. Lester Caldera, very fetching in lilac gown and hat. Susanne Lannis, lips slightly curling, looked after them, touching Strelsa's elbow: "Cyrille simply cannot let Ricky alone," she said. "The bill-posters will find a fence for her if she doesn't come to her senses." "Who?" asked Strelsa, as one or two people laughed guardedly. "Why, Cyrille Caldera. _Elle s'affiche, ma chère!_" "Mrs. Caldera!" repeated the girl, surprised. "_And_ Ricky! Are you blind, Strelsa? It's been on for two weeks or more. And she'd better not play too confidently with Ricky. You can usually forecast what a wild animal will do, never how a trained one is going to behave." "Such scandal!" laughed Chrysos Lacy. "How many of us can afford to turn our backs to the rest of the cage even for an instant? Sir Charles, I simply don't dare to go away. Otherwise I'd purchase several of those glittering articles yonder--whatever they are. Do you happen to know?" "Automatic revolvers. The cartridges are charged with Japanese perfumes. Did you never see one?" he asked, turning to Strelsa. But she was not listening; and he transferred his attention to Chrysos. Several people moved forward to examine the pretty and apparently deadly little weapons; Sir Charles was called upon to explain the Japanese game of perfumes, and everybody began to purchase the paraphernalia, pistols, cartridges, targets, and counters. Sir Charles came back, presently, to where Strelsa still stood, listlessly examining laces.