en photographed in a group as a boy."

There was a pause, disproportionately long.

"Sort of thing you _would_ say to yourself," said Woodville a little
irritably, as he lit a cigarette.

"Yes!--I took the 2.15--awful train. I went up there and went all over
the school, called at the photographers--and actually got the group!
And--there you are!"

Mervyn seemed very animated on the subject, and clapped his friend
several times on the back with short, delighted laughs.

"By Jove!" said Woodville, looking at the photograph.

"Why do you say 'By Jove!'?" asked Mervyn suspiciously.

"Why? Well! I must say _something_! You always show me things on which
no other comment is possible but an exclamation, or you tell me things
so unanswerable that there's nothing to say at all."

"So I do," admitted Mervyn, smiling, as he locked away the souvenir.
Then he sat down, and his animation dropped to a calmness bordering on
apathy.

"And how are you getting on?"

"Not at all."

"Aren't you, though?" Mervyn pushed the matches sympathetically towards
his friend, and seemed to fall into a reverie. Then he suddenly said,
brightly: "I say, Woodville, you want cheering up. Come with me and
see...."

"My dear chap, I'm not in the mood for theatres."

"Frank!" His friend looked at him with hurt reproach. "As though I'd
_let_ you see me in this new thing they're bringing out! No.--But I've
got a seat at the Old Bailey for to-morrow morning to see the trial;--I
think I could take you."

Woodville smiled.

"I appreciate immensely your methods of cheering people, Arthur, and I
know what that offer is from you. But I really don't care about it."

"Don't you?--What _do_ you care about?"

Woodville was silent. Then Mervyn said suddenly, "I say, how's Miss
Crofton and her sister? I like little Lady Chetwode awfully. She's a
pretty little thing, awfully amusing, and quite clever.--She's very keen
on crime, too, you know."

"Oh no, nonsense, Arthur! She only pretends to be, to humour you. It's
chaff. She hates it, really."

"Hates it! Does she, though?--Well, anyhow she promised to go with me to
the Chamber of Horrors one day. Make up a party, you know. And she says
she thinks all the criminals there have the most wonderful faces
physiognomically; benevolent foreheads, kindly eyes, and that sort of
thing; and then she said, well, perhaps any one _would_ look good with
such lovely complexions as they have! She says _she_ would ha