Inexperienced at detecting the difference between æsthetic interest and emotional interest, and associating the latter with nothing but what was brutal and gross, Lacrima experienced a disconcerting sort of shame when under the scrutiny of his eyes. Her timid comments upon his observations showed, however, so much more subtle insight into his meaning than Gladys had ever displayed, that it was with a genuine sense of regret that he accepted at last some trifling excuse she offered and let her wander away. Feeling restless and in need of distraction he returned to the house and sought the society of Mrs. Romer. He discovered this good lady seated in the housekeeper’s room, perusing an illustrated paper and commenting upon its contents to the portly Mrs. Murphy. The latter discreetly withdrew on the appearance of the guest of the house, and Dangelis entered into conversation with his hostess. “Maurice Quincunx!” she cried, as soon as her visitor mentioned the recluse’s queer name, “you don’t mean to say that Lacrima’s going to take you to see _him_? Well--of all the nonsensical ideas I ever heard! You’d better not tell Mortimer where you’re going. He’s just now very angry with Maurice. It won’t please him at all, her taking you there. Maurice is related to me, you know, not to Mr. Romer. Mr. Romer has never liked him, and lately--but there! I needn’t go into all that. We used to see quite a lot of him in the old days, when we first came to Nevilton. I like to have someone about, you know, and Maurice was somebody to talk to, when Mr. Romer was away; but lately things have been quite different. It is all very sad and very tiresome, you know, but what can a person do?” This was the nearest approach to a hint of divergence between the master and mistress of Nevilton that Dangelis had ever been witness to, and even this may have been misleading, for the shrewd little eyes, out of which the lady peered at him, over her spectacles, were more expressive of mild malignity than of moral indignation. “But what kind of person is this Mr. Quincunx?” enquired the American. “I confess I can’t, so far, get any clear vision of his personality. Won’t you tell me something more definite about him, something that will ‘give me a line on him,’ as we say in the States?” Mrs. Romer looked a trifle bewildered. It seemed that the personality of Mr. Quincunx was not a topic that excited her conversational powers.