Covertly she watched, as she chatted up to him, for the tell-tale consciousness and perhaps heightened colour. But when he was looking back into her face he looked straight before him, over the heads of the admiring eyes, and paid no smallest heed to them. Neither was he in the least self-conscious with her. She wondered if he even realised that the tête-à-tête he accepted so simply would have been a joy of heaven to many. Anyhow, far from resenting his seeming want of due appreciation, she found it made him more interesting. She spoke of Hal, and he immediately exclaimed: “Hal is a ripper, isn’t she? I can’t help teasing her, you know; it’s the best fun in the world.” “Do you usually tease your feminine friends?” she asked. “I’ve no doubt you have a great many.” “Oh, no, I haven’t. Men pals are far jollier.” “Still, I expect your inches bring you many fair admirers.” He shrugged his shoulders slightly, and looked a trifle bored, and she divined that he disliked flattery and probably the subject of his appearance. She adroitly turned the conversation back to Hal, and spoke of her until they reached the block of flats. “Is this where you live? What a ripping situation!” he exclaimed. “I would sooner be near the river than near Knightsbridge, even if it is not so classy.” He followed her into the lift, and then into her charming home, full of enthusiasm, and still without exhibiting a shade of self-consciousness. Lorraine found her interest growing momentarily, as he took up his stand on her hearth and gazed frankly around, with undisguised pleasure. “What a jolly nice room. It’s one of the prettiest I’ve seen. You have the same color-scheme as the Duchess of Medstone in her boudoir, but I like your furniture better.” Lorraine glanced up a little surprised. “Do you know the Duchess of Medstone?” “Well, yes”—a trifle bashfully. “You see, those sort of people ask me to their houses because of my cricket. Private cricket weeks are rather fashionable, and I get invitations as the late Oxford captain.” “And do you go to people you don’t know?” “Yes, rather, if I can raise the funds. The nuisance is the tipping. There’s always such a rotten lot of servants; and I’m too much afraid of them to give anything but gold.” The tea came in, and she saw him glance round for the chair best suited to his bulk. “My chairs were not designed for giants,” she told him laughingly; “you will have to come and sit on the settee.” He came at once, stretching his long legs out before him, with lazy ease, and then drawing his knees up sharply, as if in sudden remembrance that he was a guest and they were comparative strangers. Lorraine liked him, both for the moment’s forgetfulness and the sudden remembrance, and as she glanced again at his beautiful head and splendid shoulders, she was conscious of a sudden thrill of appreciative admiration.