n. He asked
Joan's permission to continue his cigarette.

"You have chosen the better part," he informed her, on her granting it.
"When I'm not smoking, I'm talking."

Mr. McKean shook her hand vigorously without looking at her.

"And this is Hilda," concluded Mrs. Phillips. "She ought to be in bed if
she hadn't a naughty Daddy who spoils her."

A lank, black-haired girl, with a pair of burning eyes looking out of a
face that, but for the thin line of the lips, would have been absolutely
colourless, rose suddenly from behind a bowl of artificial flowers. Joan
could not suppress a slight start; she had not noticed her on entering.
The girl came slowly forward, and Joan felt as if the uncanny eyes were
eating her up. She made an effort and held out her hand with a smile,
and the girl's long thin fingers closed on it in a pressure that hurt.
She did not speak.

"She only came back yesterday for the half-term," explained Mrs.
Phillips. "There's no keeping her away from her books. 'Twas her own
wish to be sent to boarding-school. How would you like to go to Girton
and be a B.A. like Miss Allway?" she asked, turning to the child.

Phillips's entrance saved the need of a reply. To the evident surprise
of his wife he was in evening clothes.

"Hulloa. You've got 'em on," she said.

He laughed. "I shall have to get used to them sooner or later," he said.

Joan felt relieved--she hardly knew why--that he bore the test. It was a
well-built, athletic frame, and he had gone to a good tailor. He looked
taller in them; and the strong, clean-shaven face less rugged.

Joan sat next to him at the round dinner-table with the child the other
side of him. She noticed that he ate as far as possible with his right
hand--his hands were large, but smooth and well shaped--his left
remaining under the cloth, beneath which the child's right hand, when
free, would likewise disappear. For a while the conversation consisted
chiefly of anecdotes by Mr. Airlie. There were few public men and women
about whom he did not know something to their disadvantage. Joan,
listening, found herself repeating the experience of a night or two
previous, when, during a performance of _Hamlet_, Niel Singleton, who was
playing the grave-digger, had taken her behind the scenes. Hamlet, the
King of Denmark and the Ghost were sharing a bottle of champagne in the
Ghost's dressing-room: it happened to be the Ghost's birthday. On her
return to the f