esent. The period of convalescence which to most
patients is the hardest of all to bear was to her a dream of delight.

A week after the departure of the de Vignes she was well enough to be
moved into Isabel's sitting-room, and here on that first day both Sir
Eustace and Scott joined them at tea.

The weather had cleared again, and Sir Eustace came in from an
afternoon's ski-ing attired in the white sweater in which Dinah always
loved to see him. She lay on her couch and watched him with shining eyes,
telling herself that no prince had ever looked more royal.

It was Scott who waited upon her, but she was scarcely aware of his
presence. Even Isabel seemed to have faded into the background. She could
think only of Eustace lounging near her in careless magnificence, talking
in his deep voice of the day's sport.

"There are several new people arrived," he said, "both ancient and
modern. The place was getting empty, but it has filled up again. There is
to be a dance to-night," his eyes sought Dinah's. "I am going down
presently to see if any of the new-comers have any talents worth
cultivating."

She met his look with a flash of daring. "I wish you luck," she said.

He made her a bow. "You are very generous. But I scarcely expect any. My
star has not been in the ascendant for a long time."

Scott uttered a laugh that sounded faintly derisive. "You'll have to make
the best of the second best for once, my dear chap," he said. "You can't
always have your cake iced."

Eustace glanced at him momentarily. "I am not you, Stumpy," he said. "The
philosophy of the second best is only for those who have never tasted the
best."

There was in his tone a touch of malice that caught Dinah very oddly,
like the flick of a lash intended for another. She awoke very suddenly to
the realization of Scott sitting near Isabel with the light shining on
his pale face and small, colourless beard. How insignificant he looked!
And yet the narrow shoulders had an independent set about them as though
they were not without a certain strength.

The smile still lingered about his lips as he made quiet rejoinder. "It
sometimes needs a philosopher to tell what is the best."

Eustace gave an impatient shrug. "The philosopher is not always a wise
man," he observed briefly.

"But seldom an utter fool," returned Scott.

The elder brother's face was contemptuous as he said, "A philosopher may
recognize what is best, but it is seldom within his reach