Without looking around she went out of the room, and without answering her I followed.  I was conscious chiefly of a desire to get away, to do anything but meet Selwyn where each would have to play a part; but as I entered Kitty’s drawing-room and later met her guests I crowded back all else but what was due her, spoke in turn to each, and then to Selwyn, as if between us there was no terrifying, unbridged gulf.

Kitty’s dinners are perfect.  I am ever amazed at the care and consideration she gives to their ordering.  In art and letters she is not learned, but she is an expert in the management of household affairs, and her dinner invitations are rarely declined.

At the table, with its lilacs and valley-lilies, its soft lights and perfect appointments, were old friends of mine and new acquaintances of hers, and with the guest of honor I shared their curiosity.  Very skilfully Kitty led the chatter into channels where the draught was light, and obediently I did my best to follow.  There was much talk, but no conversation.

“Oh, Miss Heath!” A young girl opposite me leaned forward.  “I’ve been so crazy to meet you.  Some one told me that you’d gone in for slums.  It must be so entrancing!”

I looked up.  For a second Selwyn’s eyes held mine and we both smiled, but before I could speak Kitty’s lion turned toward me.

“Yes—­I heard that, too.”  Fixing his black-rimmed glasses more firmly on his big and bulging nose, Mr. Garrott looked at me closely.  “In my country slumming has become a fad with a—­a certain type of restless women who have to make their living, I suppose.  But I wouldn’t fancy you were—­”

“She isn’t.”

Jack Peebles, now happily married, blinked in my direction, signaled me to say nothing, then turned to the Englishman.  “Miss Heath can do as she chooses, being Miss Heath, but the Turks are right.  Women ought to be kept behind latticed windows, given a lute, and supplied with veils, and if they ask for anything else, they should be taken from the window.”

“I don’t agree with you.”  Mr. Garrott filled his fork with mushrooms and raised it to his mouth.  “The Turks carry their restraint too far.  Women should have more liberty than is given them in Turkey.  They add color to life, add to its—­”

“Uncertainties.”  Selwyn made effort to control the smile the others found uncontrollable.  “In your country, now, the woman-question is interesting, exciting.  There they do things, smash things, make a noise, keep you guessing.  Over here their behavior is much less entertaining.  Their attitude is one of investigation as well as demand.  They have developed an unreasonable desire to know things; know why they are as they are; why they should continue to be what they have been.  They are preparing themselves by first-hand knowledge and information to tell what most of us do not want to hear.”

Selwyn’s eyes again for a moment held mine, and in my face I felt hot color creeping.  Never before had he defended, even with satire, what he had told me a hundred times was folly on my part.  He turned to Mr. Garrott.