keeping so much alone.
It looks as though I thought myself so damned superior. But I assure you
Carfax was--is--quite wrong. We've been friendly enough all our days."

"No," said Craven slowly, "I don't think you do like him. I've watched
you since. He's an awfully good fellow---really---at heart, you know.
I do hope things are all right. I sent off a wire to his uncle in town
half an hour ago to ask whether he were there. I don't know why I'm so
anxious. . . . It's all right, of course, but I'm uneasy."

"Well, you're quite wrong about my disliking Carfax," Olva went on. "And
I think, altogether, it's about time I came off my perch. For one thing
I'm going to take up Rugger properly."

"Oh, but that's splendid! Will you play against St. Martin's to-morrow?
It will relieve Lawrence like anything if you will. They've got Cards,
Worcester and Tundril, and they want a fourth Three badly. My word,
Dune, that would be splendid. We'll have you a Blue after all."

"A little late for that, I'm afraid."

"Not a bit of it. They keep on changing the Threes. Of course Cards is
having a good shot at it, but he isn't down against the Harlequins on
Saturday, and mighty sick he is about it." Craven got up to go. "Well,
I must be moving. Perhaps Carfax is back in his rooms. There may be word
of him anyway."

Olva's pipe was out. The matchbox on the mantelpiece was empty. He felt
in his pocket for the little silver box that he always carried. It was
a box, with the Dune arms stamped upon it, that his father had given to
him. He had it, he remembered, yesterday when he set out on his walk.
He felt in all his pockets. These were the clothes that he was wearing
yesterday. Perhaps it was in his bedroom. He went in to look, and Craven
meanwhile watched him from the door.

"What have you lost?"

"Nothing."

It was not in the bedroom. He felt in the overcoat that he had been
wearing. It was not there.

"Nothing. It's a matchbox of mine--must have dropped out of a pocket."

"Sorry. Daresay it will turn up. Well, see you later."

Craven vanished; then suddenly put his head in through the door.

"Oh, I say, Dune, come in to supper to-morrow night. Home I mean. My
sister's back from Dresden, and I'd like you to know her. I'm sure you'd
get on."

"Thanks very much, I'd like to come." Olva stood in the centre of the
room, his hands clenched, his face white. He must have dropped the box
in the wood. He had it on his walk, he had lit