them—impalpable, not yet recognised by either of them, but the natural result of interests superficially divided. They lunched and dined frequently apart. Teresa ceased to question Basil, and though, of his own accord, he generally gave an account of himself, he made one important reservation. He was seeing Mrs. Perry often, and saying nothing to Teresa about that lady. Harold Perry, who played so small a part in his wife's drama, was away all that winter, looking up Aztec remains. Isabel, therefore, was free to investigate religion. But that interest was temporarily in the background. Basil had taken its place.
••••••
One day he went to lunch with her, as he was expected to do several times a week. He had broken a dinner engagement with her two days before, at the last moment, in order to dine alone with Teresa; and the excuse which he gave did not satisfy Isabel. She was in the mood, increasingly frequent with her, of dissatisfaction.
"Well, you know," he said frankly, at last, "your friends bore me, Isabel. I'm older than I used to be, and I prefer my own sort of people. And you must remember that I'm working pretty hard, and that I'm often tired. When I'm tired I don't want to talk inanities."
"Inanities? Do you call Father Damon's talk inanity—or Madame Blaise's—or"
