Should he make love to her?  He had often wished to.  Here was an opportunity.

“You did not see that I was looking at you tonight; you did not guess what I was thinking of?”

“Yes, I did; you were looking at and thinking of my arms.”

Should he pass his arm round her?  Lady Helen knew Lily, and might tell; he did not dare it, and instead, spoke of her contributions to the paper.  Then the conversation branched into a description of the Wednesday night festivities in Temple Gardens—­the shouting and cheering of the lords, the comic vocalists, the inimitable Arthur, the extraordinary Bessie.  He told, with fits of laughter, of Muchross’s stump speeches, and how he had once got on the supper-table and sat down in the very centre, regardless of plates and dishes.  Mike and Lady Helen nearly died of laughter when he related how on one occasion Muchross and Snowdown, both crying drunk, had called in a couple of sweeps.  “You see,” he said, “the look of amazement on their faces, and the black ’uns were forced into two chairs, and were waited upon by the lords, who tucked their napkins under their arms.”

“Oh don’t, oh don’t!” said Lady Helen, leaning back exhausted.

But Mike went on, though he was hardly able to speak, and told how Muchross and Snowdown had danced the can-can, kicking at the chandelier from time to time, the sweeps keeping time with their implements on the sideboard; the revel finishing up with a wrestling match, Muchross taking the big sweep, and Snowdown the little one.

“You should have seen them rolling over under the dining-room table; I shall never forget Snowdown’s shirt.”

“I should like to see one of these entertainments.  Do you ever have a ladies’ night?  If you do, and the ladies are not supposed to wrestle with the laundresses in the early light, I should like to come.”

“Oh, yes, do come; Frank will be delighted.  I’ll see that things are kept within bounds.”  The conversation fell, and he regretted he must forego this very excellent opportunity to make love to her.

Next day, changed in his humour, but still thinking of Lily, he went to see Mrs. Byril, and he stopped a few days with her.  He was always strict in his own room, and if Emily sought him in the morning he reprimanded her.

She was one of those women who, having much heart, must affect more; a weak intelligent woman, honest and loyal—­one who could not live without a lover.  And with her arms about his neck, she listened to his amours, and learnt his poetry by heart.  Mike was her folly, and she would never have thought of another if, as she said, he had only behaved decently to her.  “I am sorry, darling, I told you anything about it, but when I got your beastly letter I wrote to him.  Tell me you’ll come and stay with me next month, and I’ll put him off....  I hate this new girl; I am jealous because she may influence you, but for the others—­the Brookes and their friends—­the half-hours spent in summer-houses when the gardener is at dinner, I care not one jot.”  So she spoke as she lay upon his knees in the black satin arm-chair in the drawing-room.