rsation with
them, avoided all mention of the house, and presently, complaining again
of headache, went back to her room after barely an hour downstairs.

The General whistled to himself, as he also retired to bed, after
another and more private conversation with Lady Barnes, and half an
hour's billiards with a very absent-minded host. By Jove, Laura wanted a
change! He rejoiced that he was to escort her on the morrow to the
London house of some cheerful and hospitable relations. Dollars, it
seemed, were not everything, and he wished to heaven that Roger had been
content to marry some plain English girl, with, say, a couple of
thousand a year. Even the frugal General did not see how it could have
been done on less. Roger no doubt had been a lazy, self-indulgent
beggar. Yet he seemed a good deal steadier, and more sensible than he
used to be; in spite of his wife, and the pouring out of dollars. And
there was no doubt that he had grown perceptibly older. The General felt
a vague pang of regret, so rare and so compelling had been the quality
of Roger's early youth, measured at least by physical standards.

* * * * *

The house sank into sleep and silence. Roger, before saying good-night
to his mother, had let fall a casual question as to the whereabouts of
the room which still contained the _debris_ of the London house. He
must, he said, look up two or three things, some share certificates of
his father's, for instance, that he had been in want of for some time.
Lady Barnes directed him. At the end of the nursery wing, to the right.
But in the morning one of the housemaids would show him. Had she the
key? She produced it, thought no more of it, and went to bed.

He waited in his room till after midnight, then took off his shoes, his
pride smarting, and emerged. There was one electric light burning in the
hall below. This gave enough glimmer on the broad open landing for him
to grope his way by, and he went noiselessly toward the staircase
leading up to Beatty's rooms. Once, just as he reached it, he thought he
caught the faint noise of low talking somewhere in the house, an
indeterminate sound not to be located. But when he paused to listen, it
had ceased and he supposed it to be only a windy murmur of the night.

He gained the nursery wing. So far, of course, the way was perfectly
familiar. He rarely passed an evening without going to kiss Beatty in
her cot. Outside the door of the nigh