Braybrooke raised his thick eyebrows and looked really pitiful.

"I will see if I can take you there one day," he continued, after
a rebuking pause. "But don't count on it. She doesn't see very many
people. Still, I think she might like you. You have tastes in common.
She is interested in everything that is interesting--except, perhaps, in
love affairs. She doesn't seem to care about love affairs. And yet some
young girls are devoted to her."

"Perhaps that is because she has abdicated."

Braybrooke looked at Craven with rather sharp inquiry.

"I only mean that I don't think, as a rule, young girls are very fond of
elderly women whose motto is 'never give up.'" Craven explained.

"Ah?"

Braybrooke was silent. Then, lighting a cigarette, he remarked:

"Youth is very charming, but one must say that it is set free from
cruelty."

"I agree with you. But what about the old guard?" Craven asked. "Is that
always so very kind?"

Then he suddenly remembered that in London there is an "old guard" of
men, and that undoubtedly Braybrooke belonged to it; and, afraid that he
was blundering, he changed the conversation.