Half an hour thereafter he was walking back through Holland Park,
through the warm light of an autumn afternoon. The place seemed much
changed since he had seen it a couple of hours before. The double
curve of big houses had a more friendly and hospitable look: the very
air seemed to be more genial and comfortable since he had driven up
here in the hansom.

Perhaps Mr. Ingram was at this moment a little more perturbed, pleased
and bewildered than he would have liked to confess. He had discovered
a great deal in these two hours, been much surprised and fascinated,
and had come away fairly stupefied with the result of his mission.
He had indeed been successful: Lavender would now find a different
welcome awaiting him in the house in which he had been spending nearly
all his time, to the neglect of his wife. But the fact is, that as
Edward Ingram went rapidly over in his own mind everything that had
occurred since his entrance into that house, as he anxiously recalled
the remarks made to him, the tone and looks accompanying them, and his
own replies, it was not of Lavender's affairs alone that he thought.
He confessed to himself frankly that he had never yet met any woman
who had so surprised him into admiration on their first meeting.

Yet what had she said? Nothing very particular. Was it the bright
intelligence of the gray eyes, that seemed to see everything he meant
with an instant quickness, and that seemed to agree with him even
before he spoke? He reflected, now that he was in the open air, that
he must have persecuted these two women dreadfully. In getting away
from Lavender's affairs they had touched on pictures, books and what
not--on the young poet who was playing Alfred de Musset in England;
on the great philosopher who had gone into the House to confuse and
bewilder the country gentlemen there; on all sorts of topics, indeed,