eeld heard Mrs Iver sighing in her good-natured motherly
fashion. But still Harry was not mentioned.

"And if they had a business man--with his head on his shoulders--to
manage the estate, it'd be worth half as much again." This time it was
Iver who sighed; the idea of anything not having all the money made out
of it that could be made offended his instincts.

"She'll have a husband, dear," his wife reminded him.

"I wonder if Bob'll get there before we do," said Janie, with the air of
starting a subject of real interest in lieu of continuing idle talk.

The evening was hot and the hall-door of Blent stood open. Cecily was
sitting in the hall, and came out to greet them. She seemed to Neeld to
complete the picture as she stood there in her young fairness,
graciously welcoming her guests. She was pale, but wore a gay air and
did the honors with natural dignity. No sign of strangeness to the
place, and no embarrassment, were visible.

"Oh, my dear, how you remind me of Lady Tristram!" good Mrs Iver broke
out.

Neeld pressed the girl's hand with a grip that she noticed; she looked
at him in a sort of question and for a moment flushed a little.

"It's very kind of you to come," she said to him softly.

"How are you, Mr Neeld?" The Imp had suddenly darted out from somewhere
and was offering her hand. "I'm staying here, you know." And in a
whisper she added, "That young man of Janie's has been here a quarter of
an hour, and Cecily wasn't dressed, and I've had to talk to him. Oh,
dear!" She had her hand on his arm and drew him apart. "Any news of
Harry Tristram?" she whispered.

"Er--no--none."

Her quick eyes looked at him in suspicion; he had hesitated a little.

"You've seen him?" she asked.

"Just casually, Madame Zabriska."

She turned away with a peevish little pout. "Then you're not very
interesting," she seemed to say. But Neeld forgave her: she had asked
him about Harry. He could forgive more easily because he had deluded
her.

Addie Tristram's picture was at one end of the dining-room now, and
Cecily's place was under it.

"My first dinner-party! Although it's a small one," she said to Iver as
she sat down.

"Your first at Blent?"

"The first anywhere--actually!" she laughed, and then grew thoughtful
for a moment, glancing out into the dark and listening to the flap of a
bat's wing against the window.

"You'll have plenty now," said he, as he watched her admiringly. He
forgot, man that he was,