She sighed, and lightly touched his hand, with a caressing gesture he
remembered of old.

"Very nice of you to say it--but of course it isn't true. Well, Philip,
I'll do what I can. I'll wander up some time--on Sunday perhaps. With
your coaching, I could at least give her a biography of Jim Donald. One
needn't be afraid of shocking her?"

His eyebrows lifted.

"Who's shocked at anything nowadays? Look at the things girls read and
discuss! I'm old-fashioned, I suppose. But I really couldn't talk about
Donald to her this morning. The fellow is such a worm! It would come
better from you."

"Tell me a few more facts, then, about him, than I know at present."

He gave her rapidly a sketch of the life and antecedents of Lord Donald
of Dunoon--gambler, wastrel, _divorcé_, et cetera, speaking quite
frankly, almost as he would have spoken to a man. For there was nothing
at all distasteful to him in Cynthia's knowledge of life. In a woman of
forty it was natural and even attractive. The notion of a discussion of
Donald's love-affairs with Helena had revolted him. It was on the
contrary something of a relief--especially with a practical object in
view--to discuss them with Cynthia.

They sat chatting till the shadows lengthened, then wandered into the
garden, still talking. Lady Georgina, watching from her window upstairs,
had to admit that Buntingford seemed to like her sister's society. But if
she had been within earshot at the last five minutes of their