closing her eyes, "'Trust no future,
howe'er pleasant! Let the dead past bury its dead! Act, act, in the
living present, Heart within and God o'erhead!' Thank you so much. Good
afternoon."

Sec. 2

Sam, reaching Bruton Street at a quarter past seven, was informed by the
butler who admitted him that his father was dressing and would be down
in a few minutes. The butler, an old retainer of the Marlowe family,
who, if he had not actually dandled Sam on his knees when an infant, had
known him as a small boy, was delighted to see him again.

"Missed you very much, Mr. Samuel, we all have," he said affectionately,
as he preceded him to the drawing-room.

"Yes?" said Sam absently.

"Very much indeed, sir. I happened to remark only the other day that the
place didn't seem the same without your happy laugh. It's good to see
you back once more, looking so well and merry."

Sam stalked into the drawing-room with the feeling that comes to all of
us from time to time, that it is hopeless to struggle. The whole damned
circle of his acquaintance seemed to have made up their minds that he
had not a care in the world, so what was the use? He lowered himself
into a deep arm-chair and lit a cigarette.

Presently the butler reappeared with a cocktail on a tray. Sam drained
it, and scarcely had the door closed behind the old retainer when an
abrupt change came over the whole outlook. It was as if he had been a
pianola and somebody had inserted a new record. Looking well and happy!
He blew a smoke ring. Well, if it came to that, why not? Why shouldn't
he look well and happy? What had he got to worry about? He was a young
man, fit and strong, in the springtide of life, just about to plunge
into an absorbing business. Why should he brood over a sentimental
episode which had ended a little unfortunately? He would never see the
girl again. If anything in this world was certain, that was. She would
go her way, and he his. Samuel Marlowe rose from his chair a new man, to
greet his father, who came in at that moment fingering a snowy white
tie.

Sam started at his parent's splendour in some consternation.

"Great Scot, father! Are you expecting a lot of people? I thought we
were dining alone."

"That's all right, my boy. A dinner-jacket is perfectly in order. We
shall be quite a small party. Six in all. You and I, a friend of mine
and his daughter, a friend of my friend's friend and my friend's
friend's son."

"Surely that's more