m three or four voluble women, as if to
snatch at a moment of rest from her perfunctory smile. Almost instantly
her eyes swung to his, and he became aware, as she started toward him,
of some sudden flurry leaping behind their black-fringed curtains, a
quick play of lights that stirred and confused him. She gave him her
hand with half-formal phrases of greeting under which he detected a
rising nervousness.

"So good of you to come, and on my day! They're tiresome at best. You
are well? You shall have tea and know some people." She went to a table
between the two rooms, where a girl in white drew tea from a samovar
into many little cups. Ewing began to watch this girl, a slight but
rounded creature with yellowish hair curving down either side of her
tanned face. He caught a greenish light in her eyes, as she bent to her
task with a somewhat anxious concentration.

Mrs. Laithe brought him the tea, which he helplessly took, and presented
him to a vivid-hued young matron, who made room for him beside her. His
part in the talk that followed was confined to mutterings of agreement,
tinged now and then with a discreet sympathy. He heard the latest golf
and yachting news and sprightly chat of the lady's newest motor car. He
caught a blurred view of the Austrian Tyrol, and absorbed technical data
on the operation of smuggling silk stockings from Paris. He gleaned that
Airedales were difficult to raise; that Caruso would return; that all
coachmen were but hirelings of the sales stables, when you got at the
root of the trouble. He learned that Newport had been deadly, Bar Harbor
impossible, Tuxedo not half bad for a week end; and that New York would
be empty for another fortnight.

Upon none of these difficult matters had he anything of moment to offer.
The assertion that New York was empty bereft him, indeed, of even his
slender power of assent. The lady would have considered him stupid but
for the look with which he met her quick eyes from time to time. She
decided that he was merely bored--a thing not to be particularly
remarked. It was common enough in the men she met.

In one of the roving looks he permitted himself under his companion's
discourse his glance rested on two people far back in the library. One
was Mrs. Laithe's father. He stood, cup in hand, talking down to a
smartly attired, whitehaired woman who sat forward in her chair and
stared at Ewing. Her gown was black, and one white-gloved hand rested on
Bartell's a