ose dress
clothes, which doubtless awoke old associations within him,
Marnham changed his colour like a chameleon. Really he might
have been the colonel of a cavalry regiment rising to toast the
Queen after he had sent round the wine, so polite and polished
was his talk. Who could have identified the man with the dry old
ruffian of twenty-four hours before, he who was drinking claret
(and very good claret too) mixed with water and listening with a
polite interest to all the details of his daughter's journey?
Even the doctor looked a gentleman, which doubtless he was once
upon a time, in evening dress. Moreover, some kind of truce had
been arranged. He no longer called Miss Heda "My dear" or
attempted any familiarities, while she on more than one occasion
very distinctly called him Dr. Rodd.

So much for that night and for several others that followed. As
for the days they went by pleasantly and idly. Heda walked about
on her father's arm, conversed in friendly fashion with the
doctor, always watching him, I noticed, as a cat watches a dog
that she knows is waiting an opportunity to spring, and for the
rest associated with us as much as she could. Particularly did
she seem to take refuge behind my own insignificance, having, I
suppose, come to the conclusion that I was a harmless person who
might possibly prove useful. But all the while I felt that the
storm was banking up. Indeed Marnham himself, at any rate to a
great extent, played the part of the cloud-compelling Jove, for
soon it became evident to me, and without doubt to Dr. Rodd also,
that he was encouraging the intimacy between his daughter and
Anscombe by every means in his power.

In one way and another he had fully informed himself as to
Anscombe's prospects in life, which were brilliant enough.
Moreover he liked the man who, as the remnant of the better
perceptions of his youth told him, was one of the best class of
Englishmen, and what is more, he saw that Heda liked him also, as
much indeed as she disliked Rodd. He even spoke to me of the
matter in a round-about kind of fashion, saying that the young
woman who married Anscombe would be lucky and that the father who
had him for a son-in-law might go to his grave confident of his
child's happiness. I answered that I agreed with him, unless the
lady's affections had already caused her to form other ties.

"Affections!" he exclaimed, dropping all pretence, "there are
none involved in this accur