chair, and indulged in a hearty laugh at the
thought of Chrysophrasia's affection for Patoff. Then he stirred the
fire vigorously, till the coals broke into a bright blaze.

"Annie is better," he said presently, without looking round. "You know
she recognized Paul; and Griggs thought she knew him, too, when he went
in with Cutter, the other night."

"Would you like me to go and see her to-day?" asked Mrs. Carvel. Her
husband had already told her the news and seemed to be repeating it now
out of sheer satisfaction.

"Perhaps she may know you," he answered. "Have you seen Mrs. North this
morning?"

"Yes. She says Annie has not slept very well since that day."

"The meeting excited her. Better wait a day or two longer, before doing
anything else. At any rate, we ought to ask Cutter before making another
experiment."

"Why did you not go to the meet to-day?" asked Mrs. Carvel suddenly.

"I wanted to have a morning at my books," answered John. His wife took
the answer as a hint to go away, and presently left the room, feeling
that her mind had been unnecessarily troubled by her sister. But in her
honest self-examination, when she had returned to her own room and to
the perusal of Jeremy Taylor's sermons, she acknowledged to herself that
she had a liking for Paul Patoff, and that she could not understand why
both her sister and her husband should at the very beginning scout the
idea of his marrying Hermione. Of course there was not the slightest
reason for supposing that Hermione liked him at all, but there was
nothing to show that she would not like him here-after.

Late in the afternoon we three came back from our long day with the
hounds, hungry and thirsty and tired. When I came down from my room to
get some tea, I found that Patoff had been quicker than I; he was
already comfortably installed by the fireside, with Fang at his feet,
while Hermione sat beside him. Mrs. Carvel was at the tea-table, at some
little distance, with her work in her hands, but neither John nor
Chrysophrasia was in the room. As I sat down and began to drink my tea,
I watched Paul's face, and it seemed to me that he had changed since I
had seen him in Teheran, six months ago. I had not liked him much. I am
not given to seeking acquaintance, and had certainly not sought his, but
in the Persian capital one necessarily knew every one in the little
European colony, and I had met him frequently. I had then been struck by
the stony coldness whic