"No, I shan't. Look here, Rafella, we haven't anybody dining with us, and Jim hadn't forgotten to call for me. He's probably at the club now, and when he finds I've gone home, he'll stay and play billiards, or something, for a bit. I perjured myself on your account, and I want you to come in and hear why I did it." Unwillingly, and with an air of offended mystification, Mrs. Coventry complied. "What on earth do you mean?" she inquired once they were inside the comfortable drawing-room. "How could you tell me such dreadful untruths?" She stood, looking disturbed and suspicious, in the yellow lamplight, while Mrs. Greaves shook up the fat cushions on the sofa and pushed her gently in among them. Then she explained. She repeated part of the conversation she had overheard at the club, she expressed her own opinion of Mr. Kennard, and she told Mrs. Coventry in plain words that she was making a fool of herself. Flushed and indignant, Rafella sprang up from the nest of cushions. "It's intolerable!" she cried. "I won't listen. You are every bit as bad as those two poisonous women you overheard talking. Your mind must be as evil as theirs. I tell you there is no harm in my friendship with Mr. Kennard; he has been awfully kind to me, sending me flowers and lending me books, and I hope I have been of some help to him; he is grateful, that is all." "His gratitude will be mistaken by other people for something not quite so harmless," warned Mrs. Greaves; and Rafella did feel a little disturbed in her conscience as she remembered the tone of his voice and his use of her Christian name on the previous night. But she assured herself George was to blame, indirectly, for that; Mr. Kennard had forgotten himself at the moment only because he felt so indignant with George for his conduct towards her. It was simply an outburst of chivalrous sympathy, though, of course, she would never permit it to happen again. Marion Greaves was still talking. "As long as you only played about with a lot of nice, harmless boys, I knew you were safe enough; but the moment this man began to single you out----" "I have never 'played about,' as you vulgarly put it," interrupted Rafella furiously. "The boys are just like brothers to me. They miss their women relations at home, and I can give them advice, and listen to their troubles, and often help them very much. They know I don't want them to make love to me, and that I wouldn't allow such a thing!" "If you were old and plain, they wouldn't ask for your help and advice. But that is beside the point. We are talking now about Mr. Kennard." "And I tell you again there is no harm in our friendship, and as long as my conscience is clear the friendship will continue." "You know your husband hates him," said Mrs. Greaves bluntly, "so your conscience can't be completely clear."