new it and was glad of it. The object of the dinner was achieved
and achievement, however satisfactory, is fatiguing. "You too!" she
successively exclaimed at Ogston and Cantillon. "And you also!" she
exclaimed at Paliser, to whom, dropping her voice, she added: "If
possible, remember me to him."

As they went, Verelst surveyed her. He stood against the mantel, his
back to the empty grate.

Turning she saw him. "Well, what now?"

Verelst, adjusting his glasses, said, and distantly enough: "What now?
No, what next?"

Mrs. Austen sat down. "Peter, if you ever loved me, don't adopt that
tone."

"It is not the tone, it is the tune and the tune is yours."

"Tune? What tune? What on earth are you talking about?"

"The tune to which the dinner was set. I heard it. Margaret heard it. It
knocked her out."

She raised her eyes to him, made them pathetic. "Peter, I haven't a
penny."

"You have twenty thousand a year."

"Nineteen, not a dollar more, and that is genteel poverty and there's
nothing genteel in poverty now."

Verelst tugged at his moustache. "Tell me this. Is she to marry him?"

In affected surprise, she started. "How you do jump at conclusions."

Angrily he nodded. "I appear to have jumped at the correct one."

But his anger had gained her. She faced him. "Heavens and earth! What
have you against him? What have you all against him? My eyes are as good
as any one's. I can't see it."

"You might feel it then."

"Feel what?"

Verelst tugged again at his moustache. He had never heard of elementals
and, if he had heard, he would not have believed in them. He knew
nothing of aurae--which photography has captured. He was very old fogy.
But he knew an honest man when he saw one and a gentleman before he
opened his mouth.

"Feel what?" Mrs. Austen repeated.

Verelst, thrashing about, could not get it, but he said: "I can't
describe it, but it's something. His father had it. He----"

"His father is at death's door."

"Ah! Is he? Well, I'm sorry for that. M. P. used to be no better than
the law allows--and the law is very lenient."

"You were too."

"I daresay. But M. P. has got over it. Without boasting, I think I have
also. But that is neither here nor there. In the old days, I have seen
people shrink from him."

"Nonsense! Precious little shrinking I ever did."

"Timidity was never one of your many virtues."

"Don't be coarse, Peter, and if possible don't be stupid. If you know
anything aga