As a matter of fact, it was Mrs Hargrave's maid who had rung up to tell him that her mistress was on her way to his office. He knew enough to be sure that a meeting between Violet and Rossett would be very disturbing to both, hence his discomfiture. Mount Street to Dover Street in a taxi is not a very far cry. If Guy Rossett did not swallow his champagne and clear out in a few seconds, the meeting was inevitable. The only apartments were the outer office, the waiting-room, and his own sanctum, and they all led into each other. Guy, not being thirsty, drank his wine very leisurely. Then he rose to go, but some minutes had elapsed, and at the moment he rose the office boy brought in a slip of folded paper, on which was written Mrs Hargrave's name. "Many thanks for meeting me in this little matter, Mr Jackson. Well, for the present, good-bye." And poor Guy Rossett, fondly thinking that he had laid the ghosts of the past, emerged from Jackson's room to be confronted with Violet Hargrave, seated in one of those luxurious easy chairs which the hospitable foreigner provided for his waiting clients. He put the best face he could on the situation, and advanced with outstretched hand. "An unexpected pleasure, Mrs Hargrave," he cried in a very uncertain voice. A more embarrassed specimen of a budding diplomatist could not have been observed. The pretty widow ignored the outstretched hand. She looked at him steadily, and the blue eyes were no longer soft and limpid, but hard as steel. "I think," she said in a voice that was as hard as her glance, "you are indulging in the language of diplomacy, which is usually used to disguise one's real thoughts." Rossett turned red, and began, in his agitation, to stammer forth lame and foolish excuses. "I have been awfully busy lately, you know, not had time for anything in the social line. The truth is, Mrs Hargrave, I have just woke up to the fact that I have been wasting a good part of my life. I am really going in now for work, hard work, and ambition." She swept him with a contemptuous glance. "Is this supposed to be an apology for your despicable conduct as regards myself?" "As you please to take it, Mrs Hargrave." Knowing he was utterly in the wrong, he took refuge in a sort of sullen dignity. Her voice grew more scornful as she answered in her clear, vibrant tones. "I should not like to detain you even for a moment, when you have such a laudable object in view. If you are going to atone for those wasted years, you will have a tremendous lot of leeway to make up. You cannot spare a second. Good day." He could not rally under her sharp tongue and keen woman's wit. He bowed, and was about to move away when she stopped him with an imperious gesture.