grown out of showing it.

"One from Lucian. He's in Paris--"

"With--?"

"No one, so far as I know," Laura replied, not affecting to
misunderstand his jibe. Lucian Selincourt was her only brother
and very dear to her, but there was no denying that his career
had its seamy side. He was not, like her father, a family
skeleton--he had never been warned off the Turf: but he was
rarely solitary and never out of debt. "Poor Lucian, he's hard
up too. I wish I could send him fifty pounds, but if I did he'd
send it back."

"What other letters did you have?"

Mrs. Clowes had had a sheaf of unimportant notes, which she was
made to describe in detail, her husband listening in his hard
patience. When they were exhausted Laura went on in a hesitating
voice, "And there was one more that I want to consult you about.
I know you'll say we can't have him, but I hardly liked to refuse
on my own imitative, as he's your cousin, not mine. It was from
Lawrence Hyde, offering to come here for a day or two."

"Lawrence Hyde? Why, I haven't seen or heard of him for years,"
Clowes raised his head with a gleam of interest. "I remember him
well enough though. Good-looking chap, six foot two or three and
as strong as a horse. Well-built chap, too. Women ran after
him. I haven't seen him since we were in the trenches together."

"Yes, Bernard. Don't you recollect his going to see you in
hospital?"

"So he did, by Jove! I'd forgotten that. He'd ten days' leave
and he chucked one of them away to look me up. Not such a bad
sort, old Lawrence."

"I liked him very much," said Laura quietly.

"Wants to come to us, does he? Why? Where does he write from?"

"Paris. It seems he ran across Lucian at Auteuil--"

"Let me see the letter."

Laura give it over. "Calls you Laura, does he?" Clowes read it
aloud with a running commentary of his own. "H'm: pleasant
relationship, cousins-in-law. . . 'Met Lucian . . . chat about
old times'--is he a bird of Lucian's feather, I wonder? He
wasn't keen on women in the old days, but people change a lot
in ten years . . . 'Like to come and see us while he's in
England . . . run over for the day'--bosh, he knows we should
have to put him up for a couple of nights! . . . 'Sorry to hear
such a bad account of Bernard'--Very kind of him, does he want
a cheque? Hallo! 'Lucian says he is leading you a deuce of a
life.' Upon my word!" He lowered the letter and burst out
laughing--the first h