?"

Dick looked rather puzzled. "I don't quite make Jimmy out about Quisante,"
he remarked. "He worked for him like a horse all the time, and wrote me
letters praising him to the skies. Then when he was in and everybody was
cracking him up Jimmy wouldn't open his mouth about him--seemed not to
like the subject, you know."

Nobody spoke; they had heard rumours of an event which would bring Jimmy
into new relations with Quisante, and they waited for possible information.
But Dick did not go on, so it was left to Morewood to make the necessary
intrusion into private affairs; he did it willingly, with a malicious
grin.

"Thinking him over in the light of a relation, perhaps?" he suggested.

"It would only be a connection anyhow," Dick corrected rather sharply.

"Oh, if that comforts you!" said Morewood, laughing.

"She's a charming girl and I'm awfully glad it's come off."

"Oh, it has?" asked Marchmont.

"Yes, the other day."

"And you're glad in spite of----?"

"Yes, I am. Besides I don't mean anything of that sort. I suppose I know
as well as anybody what Quisante is."

"As far as I'm concerned I'll admit you do, and still feel you don't know
much," remarked the Dean.

"Well, I wish there were more men like him," said Blair, nodding
vigorously.

"Some men would sacrifice anything for their party," remarked Morewood.

Marchmont took no part in the talk about Quisante; he could not praise;
for reasons very plain to himself he would not say a word in blame or
depreciation. Not only had he been Quisante's rival, but ever since his
talk with May he had felt himself the repository of special information,
imperfect indeed and shadowy, yet beyond that which the outside world
possessed. Besides he had received two letters from her, one written in
the course of the fight, gay in tone, expressing an eager interest in her
husband's fortunes, keenly appreciative of her husband's brilliancy and
bravery. The second, in reply to his telegram of congratulation, had run
in another key; an utter weariness and an almost disgusted satiety seemed
to have superseded her former interest. Side by side with these he had
discovered in the repressed but eloquent words of her greeting to him an
intense desire to see him. "I want a change so badly," she wrote. "I want
somebody unpractical, unpushing. You must come directly we're back in
town." They had been back in town ten days, he knew, but he had not yet
obeyed her summons. The th