This was all very well, and Braybrooke asked for nothing better; but
he was totally unable to forget the two cronies, whom he saw in the
distance with their white and chestnut heads alarmingly close together,
talking eagerly, and, he was quite sure, not about the dear old days in
Philadelphia. What had they--or rather what had Miss Cronin said to
Miss Van Tuyn? He longed to know. It really was essential that he should
know. Yet he scarcely knew how to approach the subject. It was rather
difficult to explain elaborately to a beautiful girl that you had not
the least wish to marry her. He was certainly not at his best as he
took his first cup of tea and sought about for an opening. Miss Van Tuyn
talked with her usual assurance, but he fancied that her violet eyes
were full of inquiry when they glanced at him; and he began to feel
positive that the worst had happened, and that Fanny Cronin had informed
her--no, misinformed her--of what had happened at Claridge's. Now and
then, as he met Miss Van Tuyn's eyes, he thought they were searching
his with an unusual consciousness, as if they expected something very
special from him. Presently, too, she let the conversation languish, and
at last allowed it to drop. In the silence that succeeded Braybrooke
was seized by a terrible fear that perhaps she was waiting for him to
propose. If he did propose she would refuse him of course. He had no
doubt about that. But though to be accepted by her, or indeed by anyone,
would have caused him acute distress, on the other hand no one likes to
be refused.

He thought of Craven. Was it possible to make any use of Craven to get
him out of his difficulty? Dare he hint at the real reason of his visit
to Miss Cronin? He had intended delicately to "sound" the chaperon
on the subject of matrimony, to find out if there was anything on the
_tapis_ in Paris, if Miss Van Tuyn had any special man friend there, in
short to make sure of his ground before deciding to walk on it. But he