e, gazing reflectively into space.

"He is a--curious--man."

"Did you like him?" asked Colonel Arran with an effort.

"Yes," she said, so simply that the Colonel's eyes turned directly
toward her, lingered, then became fixed on the sunlit damask folds
behind her.

"What did you like about Mr. Berkley, Ailsa?"

She considered.

"I--don't know---exactly."

"Is he cultivated?"

"Why, yes--I suppose so."

"Is he well bred?"

"Oh, yes; only--" she searched mentally--"he is not--may I say,
conventional? formal?"

"It is an age of informality," observed Colonel Arran, carefully
tracing out each separate grape in the horn of plenty.

Ailsa assented; spoke casually of something else; but when Colonel
Arran brought the conversation around again to Berkley, she in
nowise seemed reluctant.

"He is unusually attractive," she said frankly; "his features, at
moments, are almost beautiful. I sometimes wonder whether he
resembles his mother. Was she beautiful?"

"Yes."

"I thought she must have been. He resembles her, does he not?"

"Yes."

"His father was--is--" She hesitated, looked curiously at Colonel
Arran, then smiled.

"There was something I never thought of when I first met Mr.
Berkley, but now I understand why his features seemed to me not
entirely unfamiliar. I don't know exactly what it is, but there
seems to be something about him that recalls you."

Colonel Arran sat absolutely still, his heavy hand gripping the
horn of plenty, his face so gray that it was almost colourless.

Ailsa, glancing again at his profile, saw nothing now in it
resembling Berkley; and, as he made no response, thought him
uninterested. But when again she would have changed the subject,
the Colonel stirred, interrupting:

"Does he seem--well?"

"Well?" she repeated. "Oh, yes."

"He--seems well . . . and in good spirits? Contented? Is he that
type of young man? Happy?"

"I don't think he is really very happy, though he is cheerful
and--and amusing. I don't see how he can be very light-hearted."

"Why?"

She shook her head:

"I believe he--I know he must be in painfully straightened
circumstances."

"I have heard so," nodded Colonel Arran.

"Oh, he certainly _is_!" she said with decision. "He lost
everything in the panic, and he lives in a most wretched
neighbourhood, and he hasn't any business except a very little now
and then. It made me quite unhappy," she added naively.

"And you find him p