have a place for him. He did not imagine that a moral
truism would deeply affect his companions, but his broad instincts
prompted him to add that "when a married woman goes astray it is usually
the fault of her mother or her husband."

"Nonsense, old chap," retorted Howard-Jones. "Mrs. Osgood is a pretty
woman, and a pretty woman must have admiration. Duncan used to admire
her, but Osgood had the money and she married him. Duncan Grahame keeps
right on admiring her and Osgood doesn't, so there you are."

The argument thus incited might have been continued were it not for the
interruption caused by the familiar voice of a man, who had just
entered, hailing the group at the window with the somewhat pithy
expression: "What are you sportsmen doing there? Staring at nothing,
I'll wager, and I don't believe you have had one drink between you for a
week."

The men at the window turned, and were startled to see standing in the
door the man of whom they were speaking, Duncan Grahame. His clothes
showed that he had just come from the city. His trousers were turned up
and muddy, and his hat was sprinkled with rain. The merry familiarity of
his expression told, however, that he had not heard the remark just
made, but Howard-Jones, a trifle abashed at finding one of the objects
of his insinuations appear so inopportunely, and feeling that something
had better be said to remove the embarrassment, took it upon himself to
reply. "I don't believe we have, but you are just in time to stir us up.
Rennsler has been preaching and we are awfully dry; just punch that
bell, won't you."

The appearance of the servant caused the four friends to draw as many
chairs about a small cherry wood table, supplied with the usual
complement of bell, match-box and ashtray, and as the servant put the
familiar question--"What is the order, sir?" it was followed by the
habitual meditative silence. Grahame threw himself back in his chair and
pushed his hat back, doubtfully. "I have got a Sahara thirst," he
finally said, "so I suppose it will have to be a long drink. Bring me a
whiskey and soda."

"Split the soda with me, won't you?" interjected Howard-Jones.

"Couldn't think of it, my love," Grahame replied; "I have not had a
drink to-day. Went to lunch with the senior partner and he ordered
nothing more stimulating than unfiltered Croton. He took me out to talk
business, and I nearly expired under the strain." Howard-Jones finally
decided to indulge i