hem, and
standing among nondescript loungers he listened for a few minutes to
a narrow-chested man with a long, haggard face, a wispy beard and
protruding, decayed teeth, who was addressing those about him on the
mysteries of life.

He spoke of the struggle for bread, of materialism, of the illusions
of sensuality, of the Universal Intelligence, of the blind cruelty of
existence.

"You are all unhappy!" he exclaimed, in a thin but carrying voice, which
sounded genteel and fanatical. "You rush here and there not knowing why
or wherefore. Many of you have come into this very Park to-night without
any object, driven by the wish for something to take you out of your
miseries. Can you deny it, I say?"

A tall soldier who was standing near Craven looked down at the plump
girl beside him and said:

"How's that, Lil? We're both jolly miserable, ain't we?"

"Go along with yer! Not me!" was the response, with an impudent look.

"Then let's get on where it's quieter. What ho!"

They moved demurely away.

"Can you deny," the narrow-chested man continued, sawing the air with
a thin, dirty hand, "that you are all dissatisfied with life, that you
wonder about it, as Plato wondered, as Tolstoi wondered, as the Dean of
St. Paul's wonders, as I am wondering now? From this very Park you look
up at the stars, when there are any, and you ask yourselves--"

At this point in the discourse Craven turned away, feeling that
edification was scarcely to be found by him here.

Certainly at this moment he was dissatisfied with life. But that was
Lady Sellingworth's fault. If he were sitting with her now in Berkeley
square the scheme of things would probably not seem all out of gear.
He wondered where she was, what she was doing! The footman had said he
believed she was near Monte Carlo. Craven remembered once hearing her
say she was fond of Cap Martin. Probably she was staying there. It
occurred to him that possibly she had told some of her friends of her
approaching departure, though she had chosen to conceal it from him.
Miss Van Tuyn might have known of it. He resolved to go to Brook
Street and find out whether the charming girl had been in the secret.
Claridge's was close by. It would be something to do. If he could not
see Lady Sellingworth he wanted to talk about her. And at that moment
his obscure irritation made him turn towards youth. Old age had cheated
him. Well, he was young; he would seek consolation!

At Claridge's he inq