iv

Once during their partnership Edgar was conscious of a long deep glance from her. When at last he looked to meet it the glance was withdrawn, but the gravity of Patricia's face was unchanged. He, too, frowned, made thoughtful by her expression; and when they were once more seated together, since he felt that their degree of intimacy was not great enough for an invited confidence, he tried to divert her attention from her own thoughts.

"You remember that before I went away you promised to come and make the acquaintance of Claudia?" he said. "What would you say to coming one evening this week? Would that be possible?"

"I'm not sure," said Patricia, coldly. "I'm rather busy this week."

The devil you are! thought Edgar. He grew equally cold for an instant, until his patience conquered his irritation.

"I'll ask my mother to write and suggest an evening," he went on, as if unconcernedly. "You could come to dinner, and you could meet Claudia. Also Pulcinella and Percy."

Patricia inclined her head; she was not listening. A moment later she was claimed by the dancer for whom she had expressed admiration; and Edgar saw her moving about the room as if she were entirely happy. He was bewildered. Was it to himself that she had become hostile? His impulse was to withdraw, to see her no more; but dudgeon is a preserve of the very young man, so he dismissed it. Nevertheless he was resentful of her listlessness in his own company, her inattention. What could account for it?

While Edgar sat thus absorbed in a single problem, he found that Monty had drawn near. Monty made a motion towards the door.

"Could you come now?" he asked. The two men left the studio and went into the room to which Edgar had first been introduced on arrival.