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I implied that they were buds then." "And they accepted the implication?" "Oh, they are women of the world! They just swallowed it very quietly, as a well-bred person swallows a small easy-going bonbon." Craven could not help laughing. As he did so he saw in Miss Van Tuyn's eyes the thought: "You think me witty, and you're not far out."
"I wonder when she'll be back?" "Back? Where from?" "Surely you know she had gone abroad?" The look of surprise in Miss Van Tuyn's face was so obviously genuine that Craven added: "You didn't? Well, she has gone away for some time." "Where to?" "Somewhere on the Riviera, I believe. Probably Cap Martin. But letters are not to be forwarded." "At this time of year! Has she gone away alone?"
She did not glance towards the Philadelphia school friends, but turned her shoulder towards them and said: "Naturally my marriage would make a great difference to Fanny, but I have never known her to worry about it." "She is worrying now!" said poor Braybrooke, with earnest conviction. "But really she I am sure she wishes to speak to you." The line showed itself in Miss Van Tuyn's forehead.
Although a grave, even a rather sad-looking man, he was evidently entertained by Miss Van Tuyn's volubility and almost passionate, yet not vulgar, egoism. Probably he thought such a lovely girl had a right to admire herself.
"And I've asked Alick Craven and two or three who don't often come. What do you think of Beryl Van Tuyn's transformation into an heiress? I hear she's come into over three million dollars. I suppose she'll be more unconventional than ever now. Minnie Birchington met her just after her father's death, in fact the very day his death was announced in the papers.
But suddenly a change had come, one of those mysterious changes in the mood and powers of an artist which neither he nor anyone else can understand. Abruptly the force which had abandoned him had returned. The change had occurred on the day of Miss Van Tuyn's conversation through the telephone with Craven, a Friday. Arabian had refused to sit on the Saturday and Sunday.
But he glanced at the profile and remembered the words, and could not help wondering whether Miss Van Tuyn's cult for Lady Sellingworth had its foundations in self-love rather than in attraction to her whom Braybrooke had called "the most charming old woman in London."
"I have a dinner engagement to-night." "What a bore! But surely you can get out of it?" "I'm afraid not. No, really I can't." "Send an excuse! Say you are ill." "I can't honestly. It's it's rather important. Besides, the fact is, I'm the host." "Oh!" The timbre of Miss Van Tuyn's voice changed slightly at this crisis in the conversation.
But presently Miss Van Tuyn's persistent and vigorous mind must have got some hold on his, for he began to remember her beauty and to feel the lure of it in the music. And then, almost simultaneously, he was conscious of Lady Sellingworth, of her old age and of her departed beauty. And he felt her loss in the music. Could such a woman enjoy listening to such music?
"I like to think that." "London loses its most characteristic note for me when you are not in it." Miss Van Tuyn's curiosity was becoming intense, but how could she gratify it? She sought about for an opening, but found none. For it was seldom her way to be quite blunt with women, though with men she was often blunt. "Everyone has been wondering where you were," she said. "Mr.
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