"Never you fear! Just you leave it to me, Old Thing!" Loring had replied easily.

This bit of slang endearment which he had picked up of late grated on Sophy, until it was almost impossible for her to keep from flashing out at him when he used it. She said nothing, however, reflecting that the reason she so detested it was probably because she was too "old" to enjoy being called "old" in fun.

It was during Ascot week which they spent with the Arundels at their place on the River that Loring surpa.s.sed himself in his game of "poking up the highbrows." It was at luncheon. There were about twenty people present--some very important Personages among them. Loring was feeling especially "full of beans." A famous beauty had coaxed him into making "American drinks" for the whole party before luncheon. She thought them "ripping"! She was a very sporting beauty, and Loring was enjoying himself, what with the races and one thing and another, more than he had believed it possible to enjoy one's self in England away from the 'Shires in the hunting season. The American c.o.c.ktails had a _succes de curiosite_. Loring, himself, took two. At luncheon he was in high feather. The beauty egged him on. He began to give thumb-nail sketches of the characters of those present. Sophy's sensations were indescribable. Not a "highbrow" did her husband spare. In pithy, American slang he set forth, amid the laughter even of the victims themselves, what he considered their chief characteristics. Nimbly piling Ossa on Pelion, he capped the whole with Vesuvius, by pointing a finger at a stern, iron-clad, reserved and venerable member of the Opposition, and announcing: "You do the benevolent patriarch act to a T; but deep down--gad!--you're _foxy_!"

The "benevolent patriarch" himself, after a gleam of surprise such as might have stirred the countenance of Moses, had a gentile youth suddenly made a _pied de nez_ at him, gazed inscrutably. The table rocked with suppressed and somewhat scared laughter. Sophy felt bathed in flame. She knew that Majesty itself would not have adopted a jesting tone with the Being whom Loring had just called "foxy." That this Superior Being in all probability _was_ "foxy" did not at all mend matters.

She had stayed on for Ascot week because Loring had wished it. She now determined to return to America as soon as possible. She had never suffered in just this way before. She found it almost as excruciating as the death of love had been. She marvelled at the endless variety of pain.

That night Olive came to her bedroom for a private chat. She had slipped on a dressing-gown and brought her cigarette-case with her, so Sophy knew that she had "things on her mind" which she meant to unburden.

She lounged in an armchair and smoked while Sophy's maid finished brushing her hair. When the girl had left the room, Olive looked at her with affectionate but keen curiosity, and said abruptly:

"Sophy, you must forgive me, because I'm so _vewy_ fond of you--but ...

are you _weally_ as happy as I want you to be?"

Sophy returned her look quietly.

"Who is _really_ happy?" she said.

"Well ... _I_ am ... at times," replied Olive.

Sophy couldn't help smiling. She knew that this "at times" meant when Olive was deep in some love-affair.

"Is this one of the times, dear?" she asked lightly, hoping to change the subject.

Olive nodded, making little rings of smoke with the lips that were still so smooth and fresh--though she had a big girl of sixteen.

"It's because I'm so happy myself that I want _you_ to be happy, too, darling," she murmured.

"It takes such different things to make different people happy, Olive, dear."

"Oh, love makes _evwybody_ happy--while it lasts!"

"Yes--while it lasts."

Olive crushed out her cigarette thoughtfully. Then she said in a musing voice:

"Isn't it _atwocious_ of it not to last?"

Sophy had to laugh out for all her sore heart.

"Very atrocious," she admitted.

"Just suppose one could _contwol_ love," Olive continued, still in that musing voice. "What a divine place the world would be! _Evwy_body would be happy _all_ the time, then. n.o.body would be bored--n.o.body would divorce--n.o.body would be disagweeable."

"n.o.body would need a G.o.d or a philosophy," supplemented Sophy.

"But as it is, they are _most_ necessary," said Olive seriously. "Which is it with you, Sophy?"

"Both," replied Sophy. She was not smiling now.

"With me," said Olive, "it's first one and then the other. I'm afraid I've a very _fwiv_olous nature, Sophy. I _can't_ seem to keep to one thing, _all_ the time. But you, now...."

She gazed again at Sophy with that affectionate, meditative curiosity.

"You seem made for a _gwande pa.s.sion_, Sophy. And yet...." She hesitated; then went on quickly: "Now _do_ forgive me ... but, somehow, I don't feel as if you'd found it ... even now."

This "even now" sent the blood to Sophy's face. She sat very still, looking at the monogram on one of the brushes with which she had been playing as Olive talked.

"Are you vexed, darling? You mustn't be vexed. It's only because I'm so _twuly_ fond of you. Now Mr. Loring is awfully nice, and immensely good-looking, and ... and all that. But...." She hesitated again, then went on as before: "The _twuth_ is, Sophy--that he's _much_ more the sort of man I might fancy, than your sort. He's ... he's ... you see, he _stwikes_ me as too _fwivolous_ for you, you _sewious_ darling!"

Sophy said, in a flat, tired voice:

"Don't you mean he's too--young for me, Olive?"

"Oh, no! _No_, darling! Fancy! How wi_dic_ulous!" Her tone was the acme of sincerity. "I never had such an absurd thought for one moment! I only meant that he's ... well ... a bit larky for any one like you. And ...

and ... he's so ... so twe_men_dously Amewican ... and you aren't, you know...."

"Yes," said Sophy wearily. She wished with all her might that Olive would go away. She was very fond of her, but she didn't like even those kindly little fingers fumbling at the latch of her heart. She wanted to be alone--in the dark.

"Were you _des_perwately in love with him, Sophy?"

This "_were_ you" hurt almost as much as the "even now" had done. Was her state of mind so apparent, then, that even affectionate but flighty Olive had divined it?

She got up, and went round the room as though in search of something. As she moved about, she said casually:

"Dear Olive, do you think I would have married again if I hadn't been very much in love?"

"No. Of course not," replied the other absently. She had not at all said what she had come to say. Suddenly she too rose, and went over to Sophy.

She flipped an arm about her shoulders.

"Darling," she said. "You are so _wowwied_.... I can't bear it!... I know perfectly well what's wowwying you.... The fact is Jack and I talked it over before I came in here just now.... I'm going to be perfectly _fw.a.n.k_.... May I?"

"Yes ... do ... please," said Sophy. She was pale now. She had felt something of what was coming as soon as Olive mentioned John Arundel.

"Go on, Olive ... please do. I beg you to," she urged, as the other still hesitated.

"Well, then, my sweet--would you like Jack to speak to Mr. Loring--oh, _vewy_ tactfully, of course! ... but just make him understand, you know, that one doesn't ... that it isn't ... _cus_tomawy ... for people to joke ... er ... in that way ... with ... er ... personages like Mr...."

But Sophy broke in on her. She felt that she could not bear the sound of the overwhelming name whose owner Loring had called "foxy" to his august countenance.

"Yes, yes ... do!" she said hurriedly. "I'll take it as an act of the greatest kindness and friendship on Jack's part. Tell him so from me.

You see, Morris is so young and so ... so 'American,' as you said." She forced a smile. "The b.u.mp of reverence isn't much cultivated in my native land, you know...."

"I know," said Olive soothingly. "But we _weally_ make allowances for that, you know. It isn't _at all_ as if an Englishman had called that old gwandeur 'foxy.' You see, Amewicans think so _vewy_ differently from what we do." She was rattling on in her affectionate desire to mitigate Sophy's mortification by showing her a comprehending sympathy. "Why, I knew the most _charming_ young Amewican girl once ... and she told me, as a _gweat_ joke, that when she was pwesented to the Pwincess Louise, she said: 'h.e.l.lo!'... Now, you see, she _weally_ thought that was funny--and what Amewicans call 'smart.' You see, it's just the different point of view, darling. And we _all_ understand _that_. I'm sure that Mr...."

"Never mind, Olive," Sophy broke in again. "If Jack will make Morris understand ... that such things aren't done ... I'll be very grateful.

More grateful than I can say."