d. And if she were at times listless,
absent-eyed, subdued--a trifle graver, or unusually silent, seeking the
still paths of the garden as though in need of youthful meditation and
the quiet of the sunset hour, she never doubted that that tale would be
retold for her again. Only--alas!--the fair days were passing, and the
russet rustle of October sounded already among the curling leaves in the
garden; and he had been away a long time--a very long time. And she
could not understand.

On one of Austin's week-end visits, the hour for conjugal confab having
arrived and husband and wife locked in the seclusion of their
bedroom--being old-fashioned enough to occupy the same--he said, with a
trace of irritation in his voice:

"I don't know where Phil is, or what he's about. I'm wondering--he's got
the Selwyn conscience, you know--what he's up to--and if it's any kind
of dam-foolishness. Haven't you heard a word from him, Nina?"

Nina, in her pretty night attire, had emerged from her dressing-room,
locked out Kit-Ki and her maid, and had curled up in a big, soft
armchair, cradling her bare ankles in her hand.

"I haven't heard from him," she said. "Rosamund saw him in
Washington--passed him on the street. He was looking horridly thin and
worn, she wrote. He did not see her."

"Now what in the name of common sense is he doing in Washington!"
exclaimed Austin wrathfully. "Probably breaking his heart because nobody
cares to examine his Chaosite. I told him, as long as he insisted on
bothering the Government with it instead of making a deal with the Lawn
people, that I'd furnish him with a key to the lobby. I told him I knew
the right people, could get him the right lawyers, and start the thing
properly. Why didn't he come to me about it? There's only one way to
push such things, and he's as ignorant of it as a boatswain in the
marine cavalry."

Nina said thoughtfully: "You always were impatient of people, dear.
Perhaps Phil may get them to try his Chaosite without any wire-pulling.
. . . I do wish he'd write. I can't understand his continued silence.
Hasn't Boots heard from him? Hasn't Gerald?"

"Not a word. And by the way, Nina, Gerald has done rather an unexpected
thing. I saw him last night; he came to the house and told me that he
had just severed his connection with Julius Neergard's company."

"I'm glad of it!" exclaimed Nina; "I'm glad he showed the good sense to
do it!"

"Well--yes. As a matter of fact, Neergard