s abroad. All this
Michael noticed with a sense of detachment; what had happened had caused
a veil to fall between himself and external things; it was as if he was
sealed into some glass cage, and had no contact with what passed round
him. This lasted throughout his walk, and when he let himself into his
flat it was with the same sense of alienation that he found his cousin
Francis gracefully reclining on the sofa that he had pulled up in front
of the fire.

Francis was inclined to be querulous.

"I was just wondering whether I should give you up," he said. "The hour
that you named for lunch was half-past one. And I have almost forgotten
what your clock sounded like when it struck two."

This also seemed to matter very little.

"Did I ask you to lunch?" he said. "I really quite forgot; I can't even
remember doing it now."

"But there will be lunch?" asked Francis rather anxiously.

"Of course. It'll be ready in ten minutes."

Michael came and stood in front of the fire, and looked with a sudden
spasm of envy on the handsome boy who lay there. If he himself had been
anything like that

--"I was distinctly chippy this morning," remarked Francis, "and so I
didn't so much mind waiting for lunch. I attribute it to too much beer
and bacon last night at your friend's house. I enjoyed it--I mean the
evening, and for that matter the bacon--at the time. It really was
extremely pleasant."

He yawned largely and openly.

"I had no idea you could frolic like that, Mike," he said. "It was quite
a new light on your character. How did you learn to do it? It's quite a
new accomplishment."

Here again the veil was drawn. Was it last night only that Falbe
had played the Variations, and that they had acted charades? Francis
proceeded in bland unconsciousness.

"I didn't know Germans could be so jolly," he continued. "As a rule
I don't like Germans. When they try to be jolly they generally only
succeed in being top-heavy. But, of course, your friend is half-English.
Can't he play, too? And to think of your having written those ripping
tunes. His sister, too--no wonder we haven't seen much of you, Mike, if
that's where you've been spending your time. She's rather like the new
girl at the Gaiety, but handsomer. I like big girls, don't you? Oh, I
forgot, you don't like girls much, anyhow. But are you learning your
mistake, Mike? You looked last night as if you were getting more
sensible."

Michael moved away impatiently.

"