Quicksands."

After all, Trixton Brent had a sense of humour, although it must not
be expected that he should grasp at once all the elements of a joke on
himself so colossal.

"I, for one," he said, with a slight bow which gave to his words a touch
somewhat elaborate, "will be delighted." And he shot at Honora a glance
compounded of many feelings, which she returned smilingly.

"Is that the waiter?" asked Mrs. Holt.

"That is a waiter," said Trixton Brent, glancing at the motionless
figure. "Shall I call him?"

"If you please," said Mrs. Holt. "Honora, you must tell me what you
like."

"Anything, Mrs. Holt," said Honora.

"If we are to leave a little after nine," said that lady, balancing her
glasses on her nose and glancing at the card, "we have not, I'm afraid,
time for many courses."

The head waiter greeted them at the door of the dining-room. He, too,
was a man of wisdom and experience. He knew Mrs. Holt, and he knew
Trixton Brent. If gravity had not been a life-long habit with him, one
might have suspected him of a desire to laugh. As it was, he seemed
palpably embarrassed,--for Mr. Brent had evidently been conversing with
him.

"Two, sir?" he asked.

"Three," said Mrs. Holt, with dignity.

The head waiter planted them conspicuously in the centre of the room;
one of the strangest parties, from the point of view of a connoisseur of
New York, that ever sat down together. Mrs. Holt with her curls, and her
glasses laid flat on the bosom of her dove-coloured dress; Honora in a
costume dedicated to the very latest of the sports, and Trixton Brent in
English tweeds. The dining-room was full. But here and there amongst the
diners, Honora observed, were elderly people who smiled discreetly as
they glanced in their direction--friends, perhaps, of Mrs. Holt. And
suddenly, in one corner, she perceived a table of six where the mirth
was less restrained.

Fortunately for Mr. Brent, he had had a cocktail, or perhaps two, in
Honora's absence. Sufficient time had elapsed since their administration
for their proper soothing and exhilarating effects. At the sound of
the laughter in the corner he turned his head, a signal for renewed
merriment from that quarter. Whereupon he turned back again and faced
his hostess once more with a heroism that compelled Honora's admiration.
As a sportsman, he had no intention of shirking the bitterness of
defeat.

"Mrs. Grainger and Mrs. Shorter," he remarked, "appear to be enjoying