“On my honour! One of those women who are all shirt and collar and nattiness, with a gold fox for a tie-pin and a hunting-crop under the arm. She was killed schooling a horse in Mexico after making Ulford shy and uncomfortable for fifteen years. Lady Cardington and a Texas cowboy would have been as well suited to one another. Ulford’s been like a wistful ghost, they tell me, ever since her death. I should like to see him and his son together.” A hard and almost vicious gleam shone for as instant in his eyes. “You’re as cruel as a Spaniard at a bull-fight.” “My boy, I’ve been gored by the bull.” Pierce was silent for a minute. He thought of Lady Holme’s white-rose complexion and of the cessation of Carey’s acquaintance with the Holmes. No one seemed to know exactly why Carey went to the house in Cadogan Square no more. “For God’s sake give me another drink, Robin, and make it a stiff one.” Pierce poured out the whisky and thought: “Could it have been that?” Carey emptied the tumbler and heaved a long sigh. “When d’you go back to Rome?” “Beginning of July.” “You’ll be there in the dead season.” “I like Rome then. The heat doesn’t hurt me and I love the peace. Antiquity seems to descend upon the city in August, returning to its own when America is far away.” Carey stared at him hard. “A rising diplomatist oughtn’t to live in the past,” he said bluntly. “I like ruins.” “Unless they’re women.” “If I loved a woman I could love her when she became what is called a ruin.” “If you were an old man who had crumbled gradually with her.” “As a young man, too. I was discussing--or rather flitting about, dinner-party fashion--that very subject to-night.” “With whom?” “Viola.” “The deuce! What line did you take?” “That one loves--if one loves--the kernel, not the shell.” “And she?” “You know her--the opposite.” “Ah!” “And you, Carey?” “I! I think if the shell is a beautiful shell and becomes suddenly broken it makes a devil of a lot of difference in what most people think of the kernel.” “It wouldn’t to me.” “I think it would.” “You take Viola’s side then?” “And when did I ever do anything else? I’m off.” He got up, nodded good-night, and was gone in a moment. Pierce heard him singing in a deep voice as he went down the stairs, and smiled with a faint contempt. “How odd it is that nobody will believe a man if he’s fool enough to hint at the truth of his true self,” he thought. “And Carey--who’s so clever about people!” CHAPTER III