“Precisely,” said Harroway. “That’s Mrs. Chevasse’s attitude also. I uphold you. I’m fond of them both. I help Hugh all I can. Would help her if I could, but I’m not going to visit a woman my wife doesn’t visit. And my wife doesn’t countenance irregular liaisons. I’m old-fashioned enough to agree with you fully. Let them get married decently and we’d stretch a point. So would the Chevasses. One or two others doubtless would be ready to meet them. I dare say Gardiner and his wife. Everybody is sorry for them. As sorry as they are for Merriam. Somehow the luridness of the tragedy disposes people to forgive them.” “The man’s pluck was heroic. Almost an atonement in itself,” said Mrs. Harroway. “Almost. So was the woman’s. But there is the eternal law, you know. Hundreds of women would be glad to meet Colman. You would, Selina.” “Yes,” she replied frankly, “I should be willing to receive him, but he won’t come.” “That’s where I admire the man. He mixes with men. Of course he’s obliged to. But he won’t cross the threshold of a woman who doesn’t receive Irene Merriam. He’s a strong-willed devil, and he’ll stick to that all his life. Selina, I wish to goodness I could believe the story she told Merriam! But it’s beyond possibility, and the other is only too miserably human.” “If you want to get to Mr. Colman’s explosion, before the people come to dinner, Algernon, you had better make haste,” said his wife, fan and gloves in hand, advancing with the calm of buxom years to the ottoman where he was sitting. “It will take you half an hour to put on your new gloves, my dear,” he retorted. He emphasised the fact of their newness, because he had brought them home with him that afternoon. “So like a man,” murmured Mrs. Harroway. “Well, sit down and I’ll tell you,” he said, making room for her on the ottoman. She sat and busied herself with the gloves, and Harroway relapsed into narrative. In the middle of the discussion with Chevasse, in walked Hugh. The restaurant was one of his usual haunts. Sat down at their table, and talked about things in general in the charmingest of moods. One would have thought him the mildest mannered man--like Lambro. “Like _who?_” said Mrs. Harroway. “Don’t interrupt, we haven’t time,” replied Harroway with a chuckle. He resumed. Chevasse went away, leaving him alone with Hugh. They had coffee, liqueurs, and cigars. Things very comfortable. Harroway enquired after Mrs. Merriam. She was well, though of course feeling the quietness of her life. She was writing on social subjects, under a pseudonym, and was making a little reputation. But it was bitter for her. Here was the chance. What need of tact?