“Of course he does!  He ought to be in a home among his own kind.  It would be far better for everyone concerned.  Frankly, the Green family exasperate me,” declared Mrs. Fielding.  “I can put up with Jack.  He’s such a smart, good-looking boy, and he can drive like the devil.  But I’ve no use for the other two, and never shall have.  I think Green’s a humbug.  Is he going to join your picnic-party on the shore?”

“He hasn’t been invited,” said Juliet.

“Oh, you won’t find he needs much encouragement.  As Dene Strange puts it, he is always hovering on the outside edge of every circle and ready to squeeze in at the very first opportunity.”

“I should imagine my circle is hardly important enough to attract anyone in that way,” remarked Juliet.  “Strange is very caustic.  I am not sure I like him much.”

“Oh, I enjoy him,” said Mrs. Fielding.  “He is so brilliant.  He always gets right there.  You have never met him, I suppose?”

Juliet shook her head.  “Not under that name, anyway.  They say he is a barrister.  But I haven’t much sympathy with a man who hides behind a pseudonym, have you?  It looks as if he hasn’t the courage of his opinions.”

“I shouldn’t think anyone ever accused Dene Strange of lack of courage,” said Mrs. Fielding.  “I read all he writes.  He is so intensely clever.”

“Some people think he’s a woman,” said Juliet.

“Oh, I don’t believe that.  Neither do you.  No woman ever had a brain like that.  It’s quite Napoleonic.  I’d give a good deal to meet him.”

“And be horribly disappointed,” said Juliet.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because lions always are disappointing when they’re hunted down.  The ones that roar are quite insufferable, and the ones that don’t are just banal.”

Mrs. Fielding looked at her with interest for the first time.  “You’ve seen a good deal of life,” she remarked.

“Oh, no!” said Juliet lightly.  “But enough to realize that the torch of genius burns best in dark places.  Perhaps Strange is right after all—­from his own point of view at least.  That lion-hunting business is so revolting.”

“You speak as one who knows,” said Mrs. Fielding.

Juliet smiled.  “I have watched from the outside edge, as Dene Strange puts it.  I expect you have heard of the Farringmores, haven’t you?  I am distantly related to them.  I was brought up with Lady Joanna.  So I know a little of what London people call life.”

“I saw you had been in society,” said Mrs. Fielding half enviously.

“Yes, I have had five seasons—­nearly six.  And I never want another.”  Juliet spoke with great emphasis.  “That’s why I’m here now.”

“I wonder you never married,” said Mrs. Fielding.

“Do you?” Juliet spoke dreamily.  They were running swiftly up a steep and stony road leading to High Shale Point.  “Lady Jo used to wonder that.  But I’ve never yet met a man who was willing to wait, and I couldn’t do a thing like that in a hurry.”