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tenderness, and Sonia, she was quite sure, sensed it. She did not look too pleased.
    “ I am tired, ” she announced suddenly, and assuming the look of a wilting flower all at once. “ I suppose I am not very strong yet, and it has been a long and tiring day. ”
    “ Then you must go to bed early, ” he said at once.
    “ I loathe going to bed early. ” She looked at him reproachfully.
    “ Then we will all do something to amuse you and make you forget your tiredness, ” and he came and sat on the arm of her chair and picked up one of her perfect hands, and this time his expression as he looked down at her was all tenderness, and Mallory concentrated all her attention on the kitten when she saw it softening the outline of his rather hard mouth.

 
    CHAPTER SEVEN
    M allory had only the vaguest recollection of what happened during the remainder of that evening when she thought about it afterwards. She knew that Adrian came across and spoke to her, and that he seemed glad of the opportunity to do so, and that she was introduced to an elderly man with a keen, business-like face and unusually white hair and shrewd eyes who had something to do with Miss Martingale ’ s professional life, and was as noticeably drawn to her as were all the other men in the room. Then there was Miss Martingale ’ s dresser—apparently an old friend as well—a plump, suburban kind of little woman, who ran liberally to rows of unreal pearls, and ought never to have worn purple velvet, because of her high colour. But she was friendly enough to Mallory, and plainly delighted and a little overawed by her surroundings.
    There was also the local doctor and his wife and daughter, the latter a t a ll, slim girl with reddish hair and clear brown eyes who looked often and thoughtfully at Adrian. She, too, was particularly friendly to Mallory, and when they sat side-by - side for a short time they exchanged quite a few confidences considering the extreme brevity of their acquaintance.
    Jill Harding explained that she worked in London as a model, but she had been ill, and was at home for a few weeks to recuperate. She invited Mallory, when she, got some free time, to visit them, and also to bring Serena, if she found it impossible to leave her behind.
    “ That child has been well-nigh ruined by her un cl e, but she ’ s a b it of a poppet all the same, ” she said.
    “ Oh, there ’ s nothing very seriously wrong with Serena, ” Mallory voiced it as her opinion. “ Nothing, that is, that can ’ t very easily be put right—with her uncle ’ s co-operation, of course, ” she added.
    “ Um! ” Jill ex cl aimed, in a low voice. She was watching the host dividing his attention between his most important guest and her own mother, and her straight dark eyebrows met in a little frown. “ Pity he doesn ’ t get married to someone who could really mother the child. All children are the better for someone who can at least act the part of a mother. ”
    Mallory followed the direction of her gaze.
    “ Miss Martingale is, I believe, a wonderful dancer, ” she observed, wondering whether Jill had her in mind as a mother for Serena.
    Jill ’ s answer was uttered with sudden, and unexpectedly vicious disdain.
    “ Oh, most people can do something , and quite a few can do a lot of things! In this life I think it is better to do a lot of things averagely than one thing superbly—better for other people, I mean! And Miss Martingale is, of course, a superb dancer! ”
    Mallory looked at her in mild astonishment.
    “ But there are not many superb dancers in the world, ” she reminded her.
    Jill shrugged her shoulders carelessly.
    “ Just as well, if you want my candid opinion! ”
    She looked away and saw Adrian, standing a little disconsolately before one of the tall windows, parting the heavy velvet curtains and looking forth into t h e night.
    “ Poor Adrian! ” she murmured, with sudden sympathy, her brown eyes— so many shades li ght er than