new black broadcloth coat
when he entered. He praised it promptly, whereupon John flung it from
him and showed no more interest in the garment. Martin, not to be
offended, lighted his pipe, took an armchair beside the fire, and asked
for some whiskey. This mollified the other a little; he produced
spirits, loaded his own pipe, and asked the object of the visit.

"A not over-pleasant business, John," returned his brother, frankly;
"but 'Least said, soonest mended.' Only remember this, nothing must ever
lessen our common regard. What I am going to say is inspired by my--"

"Yes, yes--cut that. Spit it out and have done with it. I know there's
been trouble in you for days. You can't hide your thoughts. You've been
grim as a death's-head for a month--ever since I was engaged, come to
think of it. Now open your jaws and have done."

John's aggressive and hectoring manner spoke volubly of his own lack of
ease. Martin nerved himself to begin, holding it his duty, but secretly
fearing the issue in the light of his brother's hard, set face.

"You've something bothering you too, old man. I'm sure of it. God is
aware I don't know much about women myself, but--"

"Oh, dry up that rot! Don't think I'm blind, if you are. Don't deceive
yourself. There's a woman-hunger in you, too, though perhaps you haven't
found it out yet. What about that Blanchard girl?"

Martin flushed like a schoolboy; his hand went up over his mouth and
chin as though to hide part of his guilt, and he looked alarmed and
uneasy.

John laughed without mirth at the other's ludicrous trepidation.

"Good heavens! I've done nothing surely to suggest--?"

"Nothing at all--except look as if you were going to have a fit every
time you get within a mile of her. Lovers know the signs, I suppose.
Don't pretend you're made of different stuff to the rest of us, that's
all."

Martin removed his hand and gasped before the spectacle of what he had
revealed to other eyes. Then, after a silence of fifteen seconds, he
shut his mouth again, wiped his forehead with his hand, and spoke.

"I've been a silly fool. Only she's so wonderfully beautiful--don't you
think so?"

"A gypsy all over--if you call that beautiful."

The other flushed up again, but made no retort.

"Never mind me or anybody else. I want to speak to you about Phoebe, if
I may, John. Who have I got to care about but you? I'm only thinking of
your happiness, for that's dearer to me than my own; and you k