"I suppose you will not see your friend again before he starts?"
"Yes, I shall," replied Linforth, and the frown gathered afresh upon his forehead. "He dines to-morrow night with me at Chatham."
"Then I want to ask you something," she continued. "I want you not to mention to him that I am paying a visit to India in the cold weather."
Linforth's face cleared in an instant.
"I am glad that you have made that request," he said frankly. "I have no right to say it, perhaps. But I think you are wise."
"Things are possible here," she agreed, "which are impossible there."
"Friendship, for instance."
"Some friendships," said Mrs. Oliver; and the rest of their supper they ate cheerily enough. Violet Oliver was genuinely interested in her partner. She was not very familiar with the large view and the definite purpose. Those who gathered within her tiny drawing-room, who sought her out at balls and parties, were, as a rule, the younger men of the day, and Linforth, though like them in age and like them, too, in his capacity for enjoyment, was different in most other ways. For the large view and the definite purpose coloured all his life, and, though he spoke little of either, set him apart.
Mrs. Oliver did not cultivate many illusions about herself. She saw very clearly what manner of men they were to whom her beauty made its chief appeal—lean-minded youths for the most part not remarkable for brains—and she was sincerely proud that Linforth sought her out no less than they did. She could imagine herself afraid of Linforth, and that fancy gave her a little thrill of pleasure. She understood that he could easily be lost altogether, that if once he went away he would not return; and that knowledge made her careful not to lose him. Moreover, she had brains herself. She led him on that evening, and he spoke with greater freedom than he had used with her before—greater freedom, she hoped, than he had used with anyone. The lighted supper-room grew dim before his eyes, the noise and the laughter and the passing figures of the other guests ceased to be noticed. He talked in a low voice, and with his keen face pushed a trifle forward as though, while he spoke, he listened. He was listening to the call of the Road.
He stopped abruptly and looked anxiously at Violet.