e and movement, the pretty face of his aunt with the
pink reflection from the candle shades on her cheeks--all seemed as
unconvincing as himself and this thing that he could not grasp--could
not understand--could not realise had befallen him--and her.

If Miss Palliser was sensible of any change in him or his voice or
manner she did not betray it. Wayward came over to speak to them,
limping very slightly, tall, straight, ruddy, the gray silvering his
temples and edging his moustache.

And after a while Hamil found himself sitting silent, a partly burnt
cigar between his fingers, watching Wayward and his youthful aunt in
half-intimate, half-formal badinage, elbow to elbow on the cloth. For
they had known one another a long time, and through many phases of Fate
and Destiny.

"That little Cardross girl is playing the devil with the callow
hereabout," Wayward said; "Malcourt, house-broken, runs to heel with the
rest. And when I see her I feel like joining the pack. Only--I was never
broken, you know--"

"She is a real beauty," said Miss Palliser warmly; "I don't see why you
don't enlist, James."

"I may at that. Garry, are you also involved?"

Hamil said, "Yes--yes, of course," and smiled meaninglessly at Wayward.

For a fraction of a second his aunt hesitated, then said: "Garry is
naturally among the devoted--when he's not dog-tired from a day in the
cypress-swamps. Have you been out to see the work, James? Oh, you should
go; everybody goes; it's one of the things to do here. And I'm very
proud when I hear people say, 'There's that brilliant young fellow,
Hamil,' or, in a tone which expresses profound respect, 'Hamil designed
it, you know'; and I smile and think, 'That's my boy Garry!' James, it
is a very comfortable sensation for an old lady to experience." And she
looked at Wayward out of her lovely golden eyes, sweet as a maid of
twenty.

Wayward smiled, then absently bent his gaze on his wine-glass, lying
back in his chair. Through his spectacles his eyes seemed very intent on
the frail crystal stem of his glass.

"What are you going to do for the rest of the winter?" she asked,
watching him.

"What I am doing," he replied with smiling bitterness. "The _Ariani_ is
yonder when I can't stand the shore.... What else is there for me to
do--until I snuff out!"

"Build that house you were going to build--when we were rather younger,
Jim."

"I did; and it fell," he said quietly; but, as though she had not hear