Part 67 (1/2)

”I think Mr. Arabian is the most--the most--he is fascinating. He is a charming man. And how very good-looking!”

”Yes, he's a handsome fellow. And so you liked him?”

”No one has ever been so charming to me as he was--that I can remember.

He must have a most sympathetic make-up. Who is he?”

”A friend of d.i.c.k Garstin, the painter. And so he attracted you?”

”I think him certainly most attractive. I should imagine he must have a very kind heart. There is something almost childlike about him, so simple!”

”So--so you find nothing repellent in him?”

”Repellent!” said Miss Cronin, almost with fear. ”Do you mean to say--then don't you like him?”

”I like him well enough. But, as you ought to know, I'm not given to raving about men.”

”Well,” said Miss Cronin almost severely, ”Mr. Arabian--Is that his true name?”

”Yes. I told you so.”

”It's such an odd name! Mr. Arabian is a most kind and warm-hearted man.

I am certain of that. And he is not above being charming and thoughtful to an ordinary old woman like me. He understands me, and that shows he has sympathy. I am sure Suzanne would like him too.”

”Really, you quite rave about him!” said Miss Van Tuyn, with a light touch of sarcasm.

But her eyes looked pleased, and that evening she was exceptionally kind to old f.a.n.n.y.

She had not yet brought Arabian and Alick Craven together. Somehow she shrank from that far more than she had shrunk from the test with f.a.n.n.y.

Craven was very English, and Englishmen are apt to be intolerant about men of other nations. And Craven was a man, and apparently was beginning to like her very much. He would not be a fair judge. Undoubtedly he would be prejudiced.

And at this point in her mental communings Miss Van Tuyn realized that she was losing her independence of mind. What did it matter if f.a.n.n.y thought this and Alick Craven that? What did it matter what anyone thought but herself?

But she was surely confused, was walking in the clouds. d.i.c.k Garstin had given her a lead that night of the meeting of the Georgians. She had certainly been affected by his words. Perhaps he had even infected her with his thought. Thought can infect, and Garstin had a powerful mind.

And now she was seeking to oppose to Garstin's thought the opinion of others. How terribly weak that was! And she had always prided herself on her strength. She was startled, even angered, by the change in herself.

Her connexion with Craven was peculiar.

Ever since Lady Sellingworth's abrupt departure from England he had persistently sought her out, had shown a sort of almost obstinate desire to be in her company. Remembering what had happened when Lady Sellingworth was still in Berkeley Square, Miss Van Tuyn had been on her guard. Craven had hurt her vanity once. She did not quite understand him. She suspected him of peculiarity. She even wondered whether he had had a quarrel with Adela which had been concealed from her, and which might account for Adela's departure and for Craven's present a.s.siduity.

Possibly, but for one reason, her injured vanity would have kept Craven at a distance--at any rate, for a time. It would have been pleasant to deal out suitable punishment to one who certainly deserved it. But there was the reason for the taking of the other course--Arabian.

An obscure instinct drove her into intimacy with Craven because of Arabian. She was not sure that she wanted Craven just now, but she might want him, perhaps very much, later. She knew he was not really in love with her, but they were beginning to get on well together. He admired her; she held out a hand to his youth. There was something of comrades.h.i.+p in their a.s.sociation. And their minds understood each other rather well, she thought. For they were both genuinely interested in the arts, though neither of them was an artist. And she felt very safe with Alick Craven. So she forgave Craven for his behaviour with Adela Sellingworth. She let him off his punishment. She relied upon him as her friend. And she needed to rely upon someone. For the calm self-possession of her nature was beginning to be seriously affected.

She was losing some of her hitherto immense self-a.s.surance. Her faith in the coolness and dominating strength of her own temperament was shaken.

Arabian troubled her increasingly.

That night at the restaurant in Conduit Street she had felt that she hated him, and when she had left Garstin she had realized something, that the measure of her nervous hatred was the measure of something else. Why should she mind what Arabian did? What was his way of life to her? Other men could do what they chose and her well-poised, well-disciplined brain retained its normal calm. So long as they gave her the admiration which her vanity needed, she was not persecuted by any undue anxieties about the secret conduct of their lives. But she was tormented by the memory of that girl in the restaurant. And she remembered the conversation about jealousy round the dinner table at the Carlton. She was jealous now. That was why she had been so angry with Garstin. That was why she had lain awake that night.

And yet the next morning she had gone to the studio in Glebe Place. She had greeted Arabian as usual. She had never let him know that she had seen him in the restaurant, and she had persuaded d.i.c.k Garstin to say nothing about it. No doubt Arabian supposed that he had been too quick for them, and that they did not know he was with the woman who had come in and had almost immediately gone out.