“Oh yes.”

“I really thought at that time it would be possible to assist him to get back into life, what we understand by life.  You helped me like a true friend.”

“Oh, I really did nothing.”

“You enabled me to continue my acquaintance with him here,” said Mrs. Clarke inflexibly.

Lady Ingleton was silent, and Mrs. Clarke continued: 

“You know what I did, my efforts to interest him in all sorts of things.  I even got Jimmy out because I knew Mr. Leith was fond of him, threw them together, even tried to turn Mr. Leith into a sort of holiday tutor.  Anything to take him out of himself.  Later on, when Jimmy went back to England, I though I would try hard to wake up Dion Leith’s mind.”

“Did you?” said Lady Ingleton, in her most languid voice.

“I took him about in Stamboul.  I showed him all the interesting things that travelers as a rule know nothing about.  I tried to make him feel Stamboul.  I even spent the winter here chiefly because of him, though, of course, nobody must know that but you.”

“Entendu, ma chere!”

“But I’ve made a complete failure of it all.”

“You meant that Mr. Leith can’t take up life again?”

“He simply doesn’t care for the things of the mind.  He has very few mental resources.  I imagined that there was very much more in him to work upon than there is.  If his heart receives a hard blow, an intellectual man can always turn for consolation to the innumerable things of art, philosophy, literature, that are food for the mind.  But Mr. Leith unfortunately isn’t an intellectual man.  And another thing——­”

She had been speaking very quietly; now she paused.

“Yes?” said Lady Ingleton.

“Jimmy came out for the Easter holidays.  It was absurd, because they’re so short, but I had to see him, and I couldn’t very well go to England.  Well, Jimmy’s taken a violent dislike to Mr. Leith.”

“I thought Jimmy was very fond of him.”

“He was devoted to him, but now he can’t bear him.  In fact, Jimmy won’t have anything to do with Dion Leith.  I suppose—­boys of that age are often very sharp—­I suppose he sees the deterioration in Mr. Leith and it disgusts him.”

“Deterioration!” said Lady Ingleton, leaning forward, and speaking more impulsively than before.

“Yes.  It is heart-rending.”

“Really!”

“And it makes things difficult for me.”

“I’m sorry for that.”

There was a moment of silence; then, as Mrs. Clarke did not speak, but sat still wrapped in a haggard immobility, Lady Ingleton said: 

“When do you go to Buyukderer?”

“I shall probably go next week.  I’ve very tired of Pera.”

“You look tired.”

“I didn’t mean physically.  I’m never physically tired.”

“Extraordinary woman!” said Lady Ingleton, with a faint, unhumorous smile.  “Come and see some Sevres I picked up at Christie’s.  Carey is delighted with it, although, of course, horrified at the price I paid for it.”