, nothing lost, nothing hardened in contour. Clear and
smooth her snowy chin; perfect, so far, the lovely throat: nothing of
blemish was visible, no souvenirs of grief, of pain.

And, as she looked, and all the time she was looking, she felt,
subtly, that the ordered routine of her thoughts was changing; that a
transformation was beginning somewhere deep within her--a new
character emerging--a personality unfamiliar, disturbing, as though
not entirely to be depended on.

And in the mirror she saw her lips, scarcely parted, more vivid than
she had ever seen them, and her eyes two wells of azure splendour; saw
the smooth young bosom rise and fall; felt her heart, rapid,
imperious, beating the "colours" into her cheeks.

Suddenly, as she stood there, she heard him come in;--heard the
astonished and joyous exclamations--Cecil's bantering, cynical voice,
Welter's loud welcome. She pressed both hands to her hot cheeks,
stared at herself a moment, then turned and walked leisurely toward
the living-room.

In her heart a voice was crying, crying: "Let the world see so that
there may be no mistake! This man who was friendless is my friend. Let
there be no mistake that he is more or less than that." But she only
said with a quick smile, and offering her hand: "I am so glad to see
you, Clive. I am so glad you came." And stood, still smiling, looking
into the lean, sun-tanned face, under the concentrated eyes of her
friends around them both.

For a second it was difficult for him to speak; but only she saw the
slight quiver of the mouth.

"You are--quite the same," he said; "no more beautiful, no less. Time
is not the essence of your contract with Venus."

"Oh, Clive! And I am twenty-four! Tell me--_are_ you a trifle
grey!--just above the temples?--or is it the light?"

"He's grey," said Cecil; "don't flatter him, Athalie. And Oh, Lord,
what a thinness!"

Peggy Brooks, professionally curious, said naively: "Are you still
rather full of bacilli, Mr. Bailey? And would you mind if I took a
drop of blood from you some day?"

"Not at all," said Clive, laughing away the strain that still fettered
his speech a little. "You may have quarts if you like, Dr. Brooks."

"How was the shooting?" inquired Welter, bustling up like a judge at a
bench-show when the awards are applauded.

"Oh--there was shooting--of course," said Clive with an involuntary
and half-humorous glance at Captain Dane.

"Good nigger hunting," nodded Dane. "