“Yes,” said Douglas, gloomily.  “She has a wonderful face.”

“The less you see of her face, the better, Sholto.  I hope you will not go to her house too often.”

“Do you doubt my discretion, mother?”

“No, no, Sholto.  But I am afraid of any unpleasantness arising between you and that man.  These working men are so savage to their wives, and so jealous of gentlemen.  I hardly like your going into his house at all.”

“Absurd, mother!  You must not think that he is a navvy in fustian and corduroys.  He seems a sensible man:  his address is really remarkably good, considering what he is.  As to his being savage, he is quite the reverse.  His head is full of figures and machinery; and I am told that he does nothing at home but play the piano.  He must bore Marian terribly.  I do not want to go to his house particularly; but Marian and he are, of course, very sensitive to anything that can be construed as a slight; and I shall visit them once or twice to prevent them from thinking that I wish to snub Conolly.  He will be glad enough to have me at his dinner-table.  I am afraid I must hurry away now:  I have an appointment at the club.  Can I do anything for you in town?”

“No, thank you, Sholto.  I thought you would have stayed with me for a cup of tea.”

“Thank you, dear mother, no:  not to-day.  I promised to be at the club.”

“If you promised, of course, you must go.  Good-bye.  You will come again soon, will you not?”

“Some day next week, if not sooner.  Good-bye, mother.”

Douglas left Manchester Square, not to go to his club, where he had no real appointment, but to avoid spending the afternoon with his mother, who, though a little hurt at his leaving her, was also somewhat relieved by being rid of him.  They maintained toward one another an attitude which their friends found beautiful and edifying; but, like artists’ models, they found the attitude fatiguing, in spite of their practice and its dignity.

At Hyde Park Corner, Douglas heard his name unceremoniously shouted.  Turning, he saw Marmaduke Lind, carelessly dressed, walking a little behind him.

“Where are you going to?” said Marmaduke, abruptly.

“Why do you ask?” said Douglas, never disposed to admit the right of another to question him.

“I want to have a talk with you.  Come and lunch somewhere, will you?”

“Yes, if you wish.”

“Let’s go to the South Kensington Museum.”

“The South——!  My dear fellow, why not suggest Putney, or the Star and Garter?  Why do you wish to go westward from Hyde Park in search of luncheon?”

“I have a particular reason.  I am to meet someone at the Museum this afternoon; and I want to ask your advice first.  You might as well come; it’s only a matter of a few minutes if we drive.”

“Well, as you please.  I have not been to the Museum for years.”

“All right.  Come al——­oh, damn!  There’s Lady Carbury and Constance coming out of the Park.  Dont look at them.  Come on.”