"And--the art of dying?" Lady Sellingworth said, with a lightly mocking
sound in her voice.

Miss Van Tuyn opened her violet eyes very wide.

"But is there an art of dying? Living--yes; for that is being and is
continuous. But dying is ceasing."

"And there is an art of ceasing, Beryl. Some day you may know that."

"Well, but even very old people are always planning for the future on
earth. No one expects to cease. Isn't it so, Mr. Craven?"

She turned to him, and he agreed with her and instanced a certain old
duchess who, at the age of eighty, was preparing for a tour round
the world when influenza stepped in and carried her off, to the great
vexation of Thomas Cook and Son.

"We must remember that that duchess was an American," observed Sir
Seymour.

"You mean that we Americans are more determined not to cease than you
English?" she asked. "That we are very persistent?"

"Don't you think so?"

"Perhaps we are."

She turned and laid a hand gently, almost caressingly, on Lady