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Updated: June 11, 2025
But he would not say anything more, and she went away full of deep curiosity, but thankful that she had decided to stay on in London. Two days after the visit of Arabian to Dick Garstin's studio Lady Sellingworth received a note from Francis Braybrooke, who invited her to dine with him at the Carlton on the following evening, and to visit a theatre afterwards.
Adela Sellingworth in the midst of such a society!" exclaimed the world's governess with unfeigned astonishment. "What could have induced her but to be sure, Beryl Van Tuyn is famous for her escapades, and for bringing the most unlikely people into them. I remember once in Paris she actually induced Madame Marretti to go to ha ah!" He pulled himself up short.
"No, Adela, it isn't. At least, that's not the only reason." The words were spoken slowly and were followed by a curiously conscious, almost, indeed, embarrassed look from the girl's violet eyes. "No?" After a long pause Beryl said: "You know I have always looked upon you as a book of wisdom." "It's very difficult to be wise," said Lady Sellingworth, with a touch of bitterness.
Seymour would know what Beryl knew, the worst and perhaps the best, of his old friend. And there was no one else she could go to. Seymour was an old soldier, a thorough man of the world, absolutely discreet, with a silent tongue and proved courage and coolness. No one surely existed more fitted to deal drastically with a scoundrel than he. Lady Sellingworth had no idea what he would do.
The woman who goes into it needs to be armed. For many weapons thrust at her. She must be perpetually on the alert, ready to hold her own among the attacking eyes and tongues. And she must not be tired, or dull, or sad, must not show, or follow, her varying moods, must not quietly rest in sincerity. When she had lived in the world Lady Sellingworth had scarcely realized all this.
Meanwhile Lady Sellingworth went out into the corridor with Braybrooke to "get a little air." While Mrs. Ackroyde talked Craven felt that she was thinking about him with an enormously experienced mind. She had been married twice, and was now a widow. No woman knew more about life and the world in a general way than she did.
Towards the end of the evening she happened to be standing with Sir Seymour Portman near the entrance to the ballroom, and overheard a scrap of conversation between two people just behind them. A girl's light voice said: "Have you heard the name Cora Wellingborough has given to this ball?" "No," replied a voice, which Lady Sellingworth recognized as the voice of young Rocheouart. "What is it?"
"Naturally!" "I mean in expression. In the photograph she looks vain, imperious. Do you know how a woman looks who is always on the watch for new lovers?" "Well yes, I think perhaps I do." "Lady Sellingworth in the photograph has that on the pounce expression." "That's rather awful, isn't it?" "Yes; because, of course, one can see she isn't really at all young.
"And did you glean any knowledge of Lady Sellingworth?" he asked. "Oh, yes; quite a good deal. Mrs. Ackroyde showed me a photograph of her as she was about eleven years ago." "A year before the plunge!" "Yes. She looked very handsome in the photograph. Of course, it was tremendously touched up. Still, it gave me a real idea of what she must once have been. But, oh! how she has changed!"
I was lunching with Lady Sellingworth." "Ah!" exclaimed Arabian. "That was it! I remember. So she sent I see! I see!" He half shut his eyes and a vein in his forehead swelled, giving to his brow a look of violence. "She has She has " He shut his mouth with a snap of the teeth. Sir Seymour was aware of a struggle taking place in him.
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