Part 130 (1/2)

”MY DEAR MR. CRAVEN,--I am going back to Paris almost directly and should very much like to see you if possible to say good-bye. Have you a few minutes to spare any time? If so, do come round to the hotel and let us have a last little talk.--Yours sincerely,

”BERYL VAN TUYN.”

When he had read this brief note Craven was struck, as he had been struck when he had read Lady Sellingworth's letter to him, by a certain finality in the wording. Good-bye--a last little talk! Miss Van Tuyn might have put ”au revoir,” might have omitted the word ”last.”

He looked at the clock. It was not very late--only half-past five. He decided to go at once to the hotel. And he went. Miss Van Tuyn was at home. He went up in the lift and was shown into her sitting-room. He waited there for a few minutes. Then the door opened and she came in smiling.

”How good of you to come so soon! I hardly expected you.”

”But--why not?” he said, as he took her hand.

She glanced at him inquiringly, he thought, then said:

”Oh, I don't know! You're a busy man, and have lots of engagements. Let us sit by the fire.”

”Yes.”

They sat down, and there was a moment of silence. For once Miss Van Tuyn seemed slightly embarra.s.sed--not quite at her ease. Craven did not help her. He still remembered the encounter in Glebe Place with a feeling of anger. He still felt that he moved in a certain darkness, that both Lady Sellingworth and Miss Van Tuyn had been unkind to him, had treated him if not badly, at any rate in a way that was unfriendly, and, to him, inexplicable. He did not want to seem hurt, but, on the other hand, he did not feel that it was inc.u.mbent upon him to rush forward with gracious eagerness, or to show any keen desire for the old, intimate relations. So he just sat there trying not to look stiff, but not making any effort to look charming and sympathetic.

”Have you seen Adela lately?” Miss Van Tuyn said at last, breaking the silence.

”No,” he said. ”Not since the night when we met in the _Bella Napoli_.”

”Oh, that's too bad!”

”Why too bad?”

”I thought you were such friends!”

”Scarcely that, I think,” replied Craven, in his most definitely English manner. ”I like Lady Sellingworth very much, but she has swarms of friends, and I can't expect her to bother very much about me.”

”But I don't think she has swarms of friends.”

”Perhaps n.o.body does. Still, she knows a tremendous number of people.”