s on such a night,
she reflected, that Imrie....

She found Good finally, more by accident than design, in a distant
corner of the garden. He was hunched forward in his seat, and his head
was on his chest. At first she thought him asleep. Then she heard him
scratch a match. The momentary glow showed his brows drawn close
together. It was a way he had, she knew, when his thoughts were
troublesome.

"It's late, Mr. Good," she said.

"Hello," he cried, with a start. Then he recognised her. "Oh--everybody
gone?"

"Yes--and sorry to miss you."

"Poppycock," he said succinctly.

"Don't you believe they were?"

His only reply was a short laugh--not pleasant. She changed the subject
quickly.

"I never dreamed you could be so entertaining. You were the life of the
party."

"A parakeet could do as well," he snapped. "This is a rather old
pipe--mind it?"

"Of course not." His abrupt manner, so different from his former
amiability, kept her silent. Nor did he make any effort to speak. He
managed to make her feel that she was intruding. He seemed to want to be
alone. That annoyed her.

"Mr. Good," she said sharply. "Just what is the matter with you?"

He made no attempt to deny or evade. That was not like him. But his
reply was a little disconcerting, none the less.

"There's nothing the matter with me," he said slowly. "It's you--and
they--and the whole darned system of things."

"I don't understand."

"I didn't think you would," he said ungraciously. "If you did you
wouldn't wonder why I was out here with my old pipe."

"Won't you explain it to me then?" she asked gently. She realised that
he was greatly perturbed about something. His very ungraciousness--so
unlike him--betrayed him.

"I can't explain it. I don't think anybody can."

"Won't you try ... please?"

He smoked furiously for a moment, without replying. Then, with a sudden
gesture, he emptied the ashes, with a sharp knock on his heel.

"Oh, don't bother about me, Miss Wynrod," he said, more softly. "I'm
just sore because I ... oh, I should never have come out to-night."

"But you were so clever--you made such a hit...." She tried hard to
follow him, but found it difficult.

"That isn't the point. You see, I didn't fit in. I was an outsider. I
thought I was a picture when I left the city in--this." She noticed for
the first time that his collar was unbuttoned, and his waistcoat thrown
open. "But when I saw myself beside those other fellows..