Maine lit another cigar and sat down again. His face was very white.
"You're rather conventional, Manning," he said presently.
"Conventional! Why?"
"You think her--this Mrs Glinn--a good woman. Isn't that enough for
you?"
"But, besides Eve and myself, there is a third person in the situation."
"How on earth did you find out that?" exclaimed Maine.
The other looked surprised. "How did I find out? I don't understand
you."
Maine recollected himself. He had made the common mistake of fancying
another might know a thing because he knew it.
"Who is this third person?" he asked.
"Society."
"Ah! I said you were conventional."
"Every sensible man and woman is."
"I don't know that I agree. But the third person does certainly
complicate the situation. What are you going to do then?"
Lord Herbert put down his pipe. It was not smoked out. "That's what I
want to know," he answered.
"Of course, there's the one way--of being unconventional. Then, there's
the way of being conventional but unhappy. Is there any alternative?"
Lord Herbert hesitated obviously, but at length he said: "There is, of
course; but Mrs Glinn is a curious sort of woman. I don't quite know--"
He paused, looking at his friend. Maine's face was drawn and fierce.
"What's the row?" Lord Herbert asked.
"Nothing; only I shouldn't advise you to try the alternative. That's
all."
"Maine, what do you mean?"
"Just this," replied the other. "That I know Mrs Glinn, that I agree
with you about her character--"
"You know her? That's odd!"
"I have known her for a year."
They looked each other in the eyes while a minute passed. Then Lord
Herbert said slowly, "I understand."
"What?"
"That I have come to the wrong man for advice."
There was a silence, broken only by the ticking of a clock and the
uneasy movements of Maine's fox-terrier, which was lying before the
empty grate and dreaming of departed fires.