it!' Lady Mary bridled. 'What other interpretation would you put upon affairs?'

Now it was time for innocence. 'Possibly the tragedies you speak of arise from a personal motive: envy, greed, fear-perhaps revenge for some injury or slight?'

'Revenge on three such men, all of them members of Parliament?' Lady Mary was interested in spite of herself.

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She breathed in slowly, glanced at the photographs of Gerald Carfax and of James on top of the piano, then let out a sigh. 'One of them was the father-in-law of my son, you know.'

'Yes-how very tragic for you,' Zenobia murmured superficially. ' 'And, of course, for your son.'' She was not sure how to proceed. What she needed was to know more about James and his wife, and asking Lady Mary would produce only her own opinion, which was inevitably biased beyond any use. But she could think of no other avenue to pursue. 'I imagine he is very much affected?'

'Ah, yes-of course. Of course he is.' Lady Mary bristled a trifle.

Zenobia had watched people of many sorts, gentry and working people, artisans, gamblers, seamen, adventurers and tribesmen. She had learned much that all had in common. She recognized embarrassment under Lady Mary's stiff hesitation and the very slightest tinge of color staining her scrubbed and pallid cheeks-Mary would never descend to paint of any sort! So James Carfax was not grieving for his father-in-law.

Zenobia tried a more sympathetic tack, sensing an opening. 'Mourning is very hard for young people, and of course Mrs. Carfax is no doubt most distressed.'

'Most,' Lady Mary agreed instantly this time. 'She has taken it very hard-which is only natural, I suppose. But it puts a great strain upon James.'

Zenobia said nothing, her silence inviting further enlightenment.

'She is very dependent upon him,' Lady Mary added. 'Very demanding, just at the moment.'

Again Zenobia understood the hesitation, and the wealth of memory behind it. She recalled Lady Mary as she had been thirty years ago: proud, domineering, convinced she knew what was best for all and determined-in their interest-to accomplish it for them. No doubt James Carfax had

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been prime among them, and Lady Mary would not approve the vying demands of a wife.

Any further thought along this line was prevented by the entrance of the parlormaid, who returned to say that Mr. James and Mrs. Carfax had called, and indeed they were right behind her. Zenobia regarded them with profound interest as they came in and were introduced. James Carfax was above average height, elegantly slender, with the kind of easy smile she had never cared for. But was that a judgment of him, or of herself? Not a strong man, she thought, not a man she would have taken with her up the great rivers of Africa-he would panic when she most needed him.

Helen Carfax was a different matter. There was strength in her face, not beauty, but a balance of bone and a width to her mouth which was pleasing, and which would grow more so with time. But she was a woman under extreme stress. Zenobia had seen the signs before: she did nothing so obvious as wringing her hands, tearing her handkerchief, pulling at her gloves, or twisting a ring; it was in the eyes, a rim of white between the pupil and the lower lid, and a stiffness in her walk as if her muscles ached. It was more than grief or the pain of a loss already sustained; it was the fear of a loss yet to come. And her husband appeared to be unaware of it.

'How do you do, Miss Gunne.' He bowed very slightly. He was charming, direct, his eyes were handsome and he met hers with a candid smile.' 'I do hope we do not interrupt you? I call upon Mama quite regularly, and I have nothing of urgency to say. In time of mourning there are so few calls one can make, and I thought it would be so pleasant to be out for a little while. Please do not curtail your visit on our account.' ^

'How do you do, Mr. Carfax,' Zenobia answered, regarding him without disguising her interest. His clothes were beautifully cut, his shirts of silk, the signet ring on his hand in perfect taste. Even his boots were handmade and, she guessed, of imported leather. Someone was making him a

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handsome allowance, and it was not Lady Mary, unless she had changed out of all character! She would give

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