Mrs. Oliver did not cultivate many illusions about herself.  She saw very clearly what manner of men they were to whom her beauty made its chief appeal—­lean-minded youths for the most part not remarkable for brains—­and she was sincerely proud that Linforth sought her out no less than they did.  She could imagine herself afraid of Linforth, and that fancy gave her a little thrill of pleasure.  She understood that he could easily be lost altogether, that if once he went away he would not return; and that knowledge made her careful not to lose him.  Moreover, she had brains herself.  She led him on that evening, and he spoke with greater freedom than he had used with her before—­greater freedom, she hoped, than he had used with anyone.  The lighted supper-room grew dim before his eyes, the noise and the laughter and the passing figures of the other guests ceased to be noticed.  He talked in a low voice, and with his keen face pushed a trifle forward as though, while he spoke, he listened.  He was listening to the call of the Road.

He stopped abruptly and looked anxiously at Violet.

“Have I bored you?” he asked.  “Generally I watch you,” he added with a smile, “lest I should bore you.  To-night I haven’t watched.”

“For that reason I have been interested to-night more than I have been before.”

She gathered up her fan with a little sigh.  “I must go upstairs again,” she said, and she rose from her chair.  “I am sorry.  But I have promised dances.”

“I will take you up.  Then I shall go.”

“You will dance no more?”

“No,” he said with a smile.  “I’ll not spoil a perfect evening.”  Violet Oliver was not given to tricks or any play of the eyelids.  She looked at him directly, and she said simply “Thank you.”

He took her up to the landing, and came down stairs again for his hat and coat.  But, as he passed with them along the passage door he turned, and looking up the stairs, saw Violet Oliver watching him.  She waved her hand lightly and smiled.  As the door closed behind him she returned to the ball-room.  Linforth went away with no suspicion in his mind that she had stayed her feet upon the landing merely to make very sure that he went.  He had left his mother behind, however, and she was all suspicion.  She had remarked the little scene when Shere Ali had unexpectedly appeared.  She had noticed the embarrassment of Violet Oliver and the anger of Shere Ali.  It was possible that Sir John Casson had also not been blind to it.  For, a little time afterwards, he nodded towards Shere Ali.

“Do you know that boy?” he asked.

“Yes.  He is Dick’s great friend.  They have much in common.  His father was my husband’s friend.”

“And both believed in the new Road, I know,” said Sir John.  He pulled at his grey moustache thoughtfully, and asked:  “Have the sons the Road in common, too?” A shadow darkened Sybil Linforth’s face.  She sat silent for some seconds, and when she answered, it was with a great reluctance.