"It seems frightful," said Lucy. "And that old man--over eighty! I'm
glad that I met him, at any rate."

She paused, seeing Stanley Ryder in the doorway. He was evidently
looking for her. He took her in to dinner; and every now and then,
when Montague stole a glance at her, he saw that Ryder was
monopolising her attention.

After dinner they adjourned to the music-room, and Ryder played a
couple of Chopin's Nocturnes. He never took his eyes from Lucy's
face while he was playing. "I declare," remarked Betty Wyman in
Montague's hearing, "the way Stanley Ryder makes love at the piano
is positively indecent."

Montague dodged several invitations to play cards, and deliberately
placed himself at Lucy's side for the evening. And when at last
Stanley Ryder had gone away in disgust to the smoking-room, he
turned to her and said, "Lucy, you must let me speak to you about
this."

"I don't mind your speaking to me, Allan," she said; with a feeble
attempt at a smile,

"But you must pay attention to me," he protested. "You really don't
know the sort of man you are dealing with, or what people think
about him."

She sat in silence, biting her lip nervously, while Montague told
her, as plainly as he could, what Ryder's reputation was. All that
she could answer was, "He is such an interesting man!"