“It’s a queer thing,” she said, “that certain stripes do make the ankle look large.  Theoretically they ought to make it look slim, but you take my word for it, Max, they don’t.”

“Nothing could make your ankles look anything but slim, Christine,” he replied politely.

“No, my ankles are rather good, aren’t they?” she replied, and then as if she had now disposed of the more serious topic, she added:  “And so you are going home?  Well, you mayn’t believe it, but I shall really miss you a great deal.  Oh, look at these jade flowers!  They’re really good.”

Riatt looked at the pale lilac and pink blossoms starting from their icy green leaves, but he hardly saw them.  He was disgusted at the discovery of an unexpected perversity in his nature.  He found himself hardly pleased at the absence of protest with which his announcement was greeted.  All her attention was absorbed by the jade.

“Wouldn’t it look well on our drawing-room mantel-piece?” she said.

“I’ll give it to you as a wedding present,” he answered.  “That is, if you think Hickson would like it.”

“I don’t think he’ll like anything you ever give me.  He did not even like my ring.  He thinks the stone too large.  By the way, I never properly thanked you for the ring.  It has been most splendidly persuasive.  Even Nancy grew pale when she saw the proof of your sincerity.”

“Will it be sufficient even in the face of my continued absence?” he asked, for it occurred to him that perhaps she had not understood that he meant to remain in the West indefinitely.

“Oh, I think so,” she answered, pleasantly.  “You might write to me now and then, and I’ll show just a suitable paragraph here and there to an intimate friend.”

A new idea suddenly occurred to him.  Had she any motive for desiring his absence?  Had some unexpected possibility cropped up?  Did she want to get rid of him?  Not, he added, that he minded if she did, but it would be rather interesting to know.

“I’m going a little earlier than I expected,” he went on, “because the Lanes are going, and I hate to make that long journey alone.”

She nodded understandingly.  “It will be much nicer for you to have them.”

He looked at her coldly.  It seemed to him he had never known a more callous nature.  And to think that the evening before she had actually shed tears, simply because he took another girl to lunch!  It caught his attention, he said to himself, just as a study in human nature.

He did not see her the next day until evening.  They were both to dine at Nancy’s—­(thus had the proposed dinner with Mrs. Almar deteriorated) and go afterward to the opera.  Nancy of course would not have dreamed of crowding three women into her box, so the party consisted of herself and Christine, Riatt, Roland Almar—­a pale, eager, little man, trying to placate the world with smiles, and once again Linburne, whose handsome dark head, and curved mouth, half cynical, half sensuous, began to weary Riatt inexpressibly.