Alwyn looked dubious, and not at all resigned to the prospect of “showing himself.”

“Your description of her does not strike me as particularly attractive,”—­he said—­“I cannot endure that nineteenth-century hermaphroditic production, a mannish woman.”

“Oh but she isn’t altogether mannish,”—­declared Villiers, . .  “Besides, I mustn’t forget to add, that she is extremely beautiful.”

Alwyn shrugged his shoulders indifferently.  His friend noticed the gesture and laughed.

“Still impervious to beauty, old boy?”—­he said gayly—­“You always were, I remember!”

Alwyn flushed a little, and rose from his chair.

“Not always,”—­he answered steadily,—­“There have been times in my life when the beauty of women,—­mere physical beauty—­has exercised great influence over me.  But I have lately learned how a fair face may sometimes mask a foul mind,—­and unless I can see the substance of Soul looking through the semblance of Body, then I know that the beauty I seem to behold is mere Appearance, and not Reality.  Hence, unless your beautiful Duchess be like the ‘King’s daughter’ of David’s psalm, ’all glorious within’—­her apparent loveliness will have no charm for me!—­Now”—­and he smiled, and spoke in a less serious tone.. “if you have no objection, I am off to my room to scribble for an hour or so.  Come for me if you want me—­you know I don’t in the least mind being disturbed.”

But Villiers detained him a moment, and looked inquisitively at him full in the eyes.

“You’ve got some singular new attraction about you, Alwyn,”—­he said, with a strange sense of keen inward excitement as he met his friend’s calm yet flashing glance,—­“Something mysterious, . . something that compels!  What is it? ...  I believe that visit of yours to the Ruins of Babylon had a more important motive than you will admit, . . moreover..  I believe you are in love!”

“In love!”—­Alwyn laughed a little as he repeated the words..  “What a foolish term that is when you come to think of it!  For to be in love suggests the possibility of getting out again,—­which, if love be true, can never happen.  Say that I love!—­and you will be nearer the mark!  Now don’t look so mystified, and don’t ask me any more questions just now—­to-night, when we are sitting together in the library, I’ll tell you the whole story of my Babylonian adventure!”

And with a light parting wave of the hand he left the room, and Villiers heard him humming a tune softly to himself as he ascended the stairs to his own apartments, where, ever since he arrived, he had made it his custom to do two or three hours’ steady writing every morning.  For a moment or so after he had gone Villiers stood lost in thought, with knitted brows and meditative eyes, then, rousing himself, he went on to his study, and sitting down at his desk wrote an answer to the Duchess de la Santoisie accepting her invitation.