oes he believe in the truth and honesty of the average
donkey-boy?"

"I don't know. But I must confess I have heard him extol the merits of
the Bedouins."

At this moment Lady Somerson sprang up, in her usual feverish manner,
and the men in a moment were left to themselves. As the sliding doors
closed behind Lady Somerson's active back, there was a hesitating
movement among them, suggestive of a half-formed desire for
rearrangement.

Then Armine came decisively away from his place on the far side of the
long table, and joined Meyer Isaacson.

"I'm glad to meet you again, Isaacson," he said, grasping the Doctor's
hand.

The Doctor returned his grip with a characteristic clasp, and they sat
down side by side, while the other men began talking and lighting
cigarettes.

"Have you only just come back?" asked the Doctor.

"I have been back for a week."

"So long! Where are you staying?"

"At the Savoy."

"The Savoy?"

"Are you surprised!"

The Doctor's brilliant eyes were fixed upon Armine with an expression
half humorous, half affectionate.

"Any smart hotel would seem the wrong place for you," he said. "I can
see you on the snows of the Alps, or your own moors at Etchingham, even
at--where is it?"

"Sennoures."

"But at the Savoy, the Ritz, the Carlton--no. Their gilded banality
isn't the _cadre_ for you at all."

"I'm very happy at the Savoy," Armine replied.

As he spoke, he looked away from Meyer Isaacson across the table to the
wall opposite to him. Upon it hung a large reproduction of Watts's
picture, "Progress." He gazed at it, and his face became set in a
strange calm, as if he had for a moment forgotten the place he was in,
the people round about him. Meyer Isaacson watched him with a
concentrated interest. There was something in this man--there always had
been something--which roused in the Doctor an affection, an admiration,
that were mingled with pity and even with a secret fear. Such a nature,
the Doctor often thought, must surely be fore-ordained to suffering in a
world that holds certainly many who cherish ideals and strive to mount
upwards, but a majority that is greedy for the constant gratification of
the fleshly appetites, that seldom listens to the dim appeal of the
distant voices which sometimes speak, however faintly, to all who dwell
on earth.

"What a splendid thing that is!" Armine said, at last, with a sigh. "You
know the original?"

"I saw it the other day at the galler