“And very wise too,” said Green’s voice in the doorway.  “How do you do, Mrs. Fielding?  As I can’t dress, I’ve been sent down to try and make my peace with you for showing my face here at all.  I hope you’ll be lenient for once, for really I’ve had a thorough bullying for my sins.”

He came forward with the words.  His bearing was absolutely easy though neither he nor his hostess seemed to think of shaking hands.

She looked at him with a disdainful curve of the lips that could scarcely have been described as a smile of welcome.  “I imagine it would take a good deal of that sort of thing to make much impression upon you, Mr. Green,” she said.

Green’s eyes began to shine.  He glanced at Juliet.  “Really I am much more inoffensive than you seem to think,” he said.  “I hope you are not going to repeat the dose.  I was hoping to secure your forgiveness for what happened this afternoon.  Believe me, no one regrets it more sincerely than I do.”

Mrs. Fielding drew herself together with a gesture of distaste.  “Oh, that!  I have no desire whatever to discuss it with you.  I have long regarded your half-witted brother as a disgrace to the neighbourhood, and my opinion is scarcely likely to be modified by what happened this afternoon.”

“How unfortunate!” said Green.

Again he glanced at Juliet.  She lifted her eyes to his.  “I am afraid I haven’t taken my share of the blame,” she said.  “But I think you know that I am very sorry for Robin.”

“You are always kind,” he rejoined gravely.

“How could you be to blame, Miss Moore?” asked Mrs. Fielding.

Juliet turned towards her.  “Because Robin and I are friends,” she explained simply.  “He came here to look for me, and Jack ordered him off.  That was the origin of the trouble.  And so—­” she smiled—­“Mr. Green tells me it was my fault.”

“He would,” commented Mrs. Fielding.

She turned with the words as if Green’s proximity were an offence to her, and walked away to the window at the further end of the room.

In the slightly strained pause that followed, Juliet bent to fondle Columbus who was sitting pressed against her and her book slid from her lap to the ground.  Green stooped swiftly and picked it up.

“What is it?  May I look?”

She held out her hand for it.  “It is Marionettes,—­Dene Strange’s latest.  Mrs. Fielding lent it to me.”

He kept the book in his hand.  “I thought you said you wouldn’t read any more of that man’s stuff.”

She knitted her brows a little.  “Did I say so?  I don’t remember.”

He looked down at her keenly.  “You said you hated the man and his work.”

She began to smile.  “Well, I do—­in certain moods.  But I’ve got to read him all the same.  Everyone does.”

“Surely you don’t follow the crowd!” he said.

She laughed—­her sweet, low laugh.  “Surely I do!  I’m one of them.”