Only once or twice, when she had chanced to pay an unexpected visit, had he come in and found her there.  On these occasions his manner had been studiously cold and indifferent, and any effort on her part towards establishing a more friendly footing had been invariably checked by some cruelly ironical remark, which had brought the blood to her cheeks and, almost, the tears to her eyes.  She reflected grimly that Olga Lermontof’s warning words had proved decidedly superfluous.

Meanwhile, she had struck up a friendship with Errington’s private secretary, a young man of the name of Jerry Leigh, who was a frequent visitor at Adrienne’s house.  Jerry was, in truth, the sort of person with whom it was impossible to be otherwise than friendly.  He was of a delightful ugliness, twenty-five years of age, penniless except for the salary he received from Errington, and he possessed a talent for friendship much as other folk possess a talent for music or art or dancing.

Diana’s first meeting with him had occurred quite by chance.  Both Adrienne and Mrs. Adams happened to be out one afternoon when she called, and she was awaiting their return when the door of the drawing-room suddenly opened to admit a remarkably plain young man, who, on seeing her ensconced in one of the big arm-chairs, stood hesitating as though undecided whether to remain or to take refuge in instant flight.

Adrienne had talked so much about Jerry—­of whom she was exceedingly fond—­and had so often described his charming ugliness to Diana that the latter was in no doubt at all as to whom the newcomer might be.

She nodded to him reassuringly.

“Don’t run away,” she said calmly, “I don’t bite.”

The young man promptly closed the door and advanced into the room.

“Don’t you?” he said in relieved tones.  “Thank you for telling me.  One never knows.”

“If you’ve come to see Miss de Gervais, I’m afraid you can’t at present, as she’s out,” pursued Diana.  “I’m waiting for her.”

“Then we can wait together,” returned Mr. Leigh, with an engaging smile.  “It will be much more amusing than waiting in solitude, won’t it?”

“That I can’t tell you—­yet,” replied Diana demurely.

“I’ll ask you again in half an hour,” he returned undaunted.  “I’m Leigh, you know.  Jerry Leigh, Errington’s secretary.”

“I suppose, then, you’re a very busy person?”

“Well, pretty much so in the mornings and sometimes up till late at night, but Errington’s a rattling good ‘boss’ and very often gives me an ‘afternoon out.’  That’s why I’m here now.  I’m off duty and Miss de Gervais told me I might come to tea whenever I’m free.  You see”—­confidentially—­“I’ve very few friends in London.”

“Same here,” responded Diana shortly.

“No, not really?”—­with obvious satisfaction.  “Then we ought to pal up together, oughtn’t we?”

“Don’t you want my credentials?” asked Diana, smiling,