towards her, conscious of a delicious thrill as his shoulder accidentally touched hers.
A moment after she turned, and he saw that her eyes were moist.
"I'm awfully sorry," he said again, "I"
"Isn't it stupid of me," she smiled an April smile; "but" she paused, then a moment afterwards continued, "you and Lord Drewitt seem to be men that should have a lot in front of you; yet you both talk—you talk so—as if nothing mattered, as if life were just like a theatre, and when the curtain dropped that was the end of everything."
"And isn't it?" questioned Beresford.
"We don't know, any of us."
"A man's destiny is determined by his forebears, and he is moulded by his environment," said Beresford.
"Unless he makes his own environment," she suggested.
"It's easy for you to say that. You have before you the means of satisfying every wish."
"Have I?" she asked dreamily; then as if coming back to realities, "Are you sure?"
"Haven't you?"
"Just change places with me in your imagination," she said, "and find womanhood represented by the feminine equivalent to the Thirty-Nine Articles."
"I apologise."
"And now I think we had better think about lunch," she said with a smile.
