ning, and had been dismissed to dress with
the hasty information that two guests were expected to dinner, but he
had had no idea of the last arrival's identity; and to him, too, the
meeting brought back with horrible poignancy that last bitter interview
in the haunted East.

Then, for Bruce Cheniston was sufficiently just to acquit Anstice of any
share in this untoward situation, he held out his hand with a cold
courtesy which plainly betokened no intention of alluding to any former
meeting.

"Good evening." Their hands touched, then fell apart. "You are a
new-comer to Littlefield, I understand. Like the place?"

"Yes--in moderation," rejoined Anstice with equally frigid courtesy.
"The country has its charms--at this season of the year."

"It has charms at all seasons, Dr. Anstice." Iris' light voice
challenged him, even while her grey eyes noted the strange expression in
his face. "I'm afraid you're not a real country lover if you qualify
your affection by picking out a particular season!"

"You remind one of those people who love dogs--'in their proper place.'"
Chloe's tone was delicately quizzical. "On inquiry you find their proper
place is outside--in some kennel or inclosure as far away from the
speaker as it is possible to get!"

"You can't be charged with that particular kind of affection, Chloe."
There was an assertive note in Cheniston's voice when he spoke to his
sister which was new to her. "You think a dog's proper place is the best
armchair or the downiest bed in the house!"

For a second Chloe did not reply; and without waiting Bruce went on
speaking.

"By the way, where are your dogs? I've not seen hide or hair of one
since I arrived."

Again there was a short, but quite perceptible silence. Then Chloe said
tranquilly:

"No wonder you haven't seen any dogs, Bruce. There aren't any to see."

"No dogs?" Bruce was frankly astonished. "Why, in the old days you used
to declare you couldn't live without them!"

Just for a second a quiver of emotion convulsed Chloe's usually
impassive face. Then she laughed, and Anstice thought her laugh almost
painful in its artificiality.

"My dear Bruce," she said, "please remember the old days are as dead
as--as Queen Anne. When I was young enough and foolish enough to believe
in disinterested affection, and in the right of every creature to be
happy, I adored dogs--or thought I did. Now I am wiser, and know that
life is not all bones and playtime, so to spe