“One is scant measure,” he laughed, in reply, “but I must be grateful even for that.”

It was the middle of dinner before she took notice of him again, but when she did she plunged into her subject boldly.

“I suppose you didn’t think I knew who you were walking with this afternoon?”

“Yes, I did, because the lady recognized you.  She said you and Mrs. Grimston were among the nice people in Paris whom she hadn’t met—­but whom she knew very well by sight.”

If Derek thought this reply calculated to appease an angry deity, he discovered his mistake.

“Did she have the indecency to say she hadn’t met me?”

“I think she did; but she probably didn’t know that the word indecency could apply to anything connected with you.”

“Why, I was introduced to her four times in one season!”

“I suppose she hasn’t as good a memory as yours.”

“Oh, as for that, it wasn’t a matter of memory.  Nobody was permitted to forget her—­she was quite notorious.”

“I’ve always heard that in Paris the mere possession of beauty is enough to keep any one in the public eye.”

“It wasn’t beauty alone—­if she has beauty; though for my part I can’t see it.”

“It is of rather an elusive quality.”

“It must be.  But if it exists at all, I can tell you that it’s of a dangerous quality.”

“Hasn’t that always been the peculiarity of beauty ever since the days of Helen of Troy?”

“I’m sure I can’t say.  I’ve always tried to steer clear of that sort of thing—­”

“That must be an excellent plan; only it deprives one of the power of speaking as an authority, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t pretend to speak as an authority.  If I say anything at all, it’s what everybody knows.”

“What everybody knows is generally—­scandal.”

“This was certainly scandal; but it wasn’t the fact that everybody knew it that made it so.”

“Then I’m sure you wouldn’t wish to repeat it.”

“I don’t see why you should be sure of anything of the kind.  I consider it my duty to repeat it.”

“Then you won’t be surprised if I consider it mine to contradict it.”

“Certainly not.  I shouldn’t be surprised at anything you could do, Derek, after what I’ve heard since I came home.”

“I won’t ask you what that is—­”

“No; your own conscience must tell you.  No one can go on as you’ve been doing, and not know he must be talked about.”

“I’ve always understood that that was more flattering than to be ignored.”

“It depends.  There’s such a thing as receiving that sort of flattery first, only to be ignored in the sequel.  I speak as your friend, Derek—­”

“I thoroughly understand that; but may I ask if it’s in the way of warning or of threat?”

“It’s in the way of both.  You must see that, whatever risks I may be prepared to run myself, as long as I have Marion with me I can’t expose her to—­”