live away from the centre of their activities. He was never tired
of meeting new faces, and would go to endless trouble to bring an
interesting personality within the circle of his acquaintance. Craven's
comparative indifference about society, his laziness in social matters,
was a perpetual cause of surprise to Braybrooke, who nevertheless was
always ready to do Craven a good turn, whether he wanted it done to him
or not. Indeed, Craven was indebted to his kind old friend for various
introductions which had led to pleasant times, and for these he was
quite grateful. Braybrooke was much older than most people, though he
seldom looked it, and decades older than Craven, and he had a genial way
of taking those younger than himself in charge, always with a view to
their social advancement. He was a very ancient hand at the social
game; he loved to play it; and he wanted as many as possible to join
in, provided, of course, that they were "suitable" for such a purpose.
Perhaps he slightly resembled "the world's governess," as a witty woman
had once called him. But he was really a capital fellow and a mine of
worldly wisdom.

On the occasion in question, after chatting for about an hour, he
happened to mention Lady Sellingworth--"Adela Sellingworth," as he
called her. Craven did not know her, and said so in the simplest way.

"I don't know Lady Sellingworth."

Braybrooke sat for a moment in silence looking at Craven over his
carefully trimmed grey and brown beard.

"How very strange!" he said at last.

"Why is it strange?"