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he had ever remembered feeling, was rising from his chair.
    â€œYes, yes—well, all in due time, Hargate.”
    â€œBut, where are you going?” demanded his hostess. “Are not you dining with us? My dear, what can you be thinking of? Did not you invite Basil to dine?”
    Lord Hargate looked somewhat abashed, but his brother cut off his apology with, “No, no, I could not think of imposing myself upon you. I shall dine at White’s and put up at my club. Please do not bother to get up, I shall see myself to the door.”
    But Lady Hargate, if she found it impossible to be firm with her children, was quite capable of imposing her will upon a desirable guest. She could not let her brother-in-law slip away just when she was beginning to feel cheerful. Why, they had not yet even discussed his matrimonial plans, nor had she had time to interrogate him about the French Court. With an expression which threatened every moment the dryness of her eyes, she implored Sir Basil to stay. She would not think of letting him slip away; she would not hear of his dining at White’s when he could dine at home with them. The idea was too awful to think about. He must honour them with his company.
    With so many pleas for his company, and very little to offer as an excuse, Sir Basil could hardly do otherwise than remain. He would dine with them, then, and stay the night. But on the morrow he would move to his old quarters in St. James’s Street. Even the most pleading look from his sister-in-law could not persuade him otherwise. In truth, had he not been so tired, he would have gone away directly, for he could not wait to be alone again, or in the quiet, more dignified company of bachelors.

Chapter III
    Of all the people in London, there was one in particular whom Sir Basil Ives was eager to visit. Lady Diana Cardovan had been his dearest friend and best advisor for many years. She was a woman nearly as beautiful as she was brilliant, a famous wit, and a beloved hostess. Her great house on the outskirts of London was a favourite meeting place for politicians and the ton , and she had been on intimate terms with the most eminent figures of the day since she had been a very young woman. Now she was in the fullness of maturity, and yet she possessed the figure of a girl of twenty. Her complexion was so pure and fine that she might almost have been made of milk and honey rather than flesh and blood. Certainly it did not bear any trace of the suffering she had known.
    Lady Cardovan had been married at sixteen to a stupid, brutal man. How the match had come to be made at all was the subject of much speculation amongst her friends, for she was the granddaughter of a prime minister, the daughter of a duke, and Cardovan, save for his title, possessed none of the preeminence of mind or imagination which so marked her own family. What was certain was that he had treated her in the most vicious and insufferable manner, and after five years of insolence and torture, had taken a mistress. Now he resided in another part of the city with his common-law wife and their five children. He was a husband in name only, and yet Lady Diana, who might have taken any lover she chose, would not. Her virtue almost more than her other not inconsiderable charms had won Sir Basil’s heart. He admired her as he had never admired any female, and very few men.When he had been a young diplomat, just beginning to make his mark in the world, she had taken him up, and from the role of patroness, had grown into a close friend. Had she been fifteen years younger, Sir Basil might almost have been tempted to many her. As it was, their association was the dearest thing on earth to him. He relied upon her wisdom nearly above his own. As the elder, Lady Cardovan claimed the right to teaze her friend, and Sir Basil received her jibes with a good humour which might have amazed his subordinates at the Embassy in Paris. For his own part, he had sometimes