ly; and still the other face watched
Rainer.

"It was... a mistake... a confusion of memory...." Faxon heard himself
stammer. Mr. Lavington pushed back his chair, and as he did so Mr.
Grisben suddenly leaned forward.

"Lavington! What have, we been thinking of? We haven't drunk Frank's
health!"

Mr. Lavington reseated himself. "My dear boy!... Peters, another
bottle...." He turned to his nephew. "After such a sin of omission I
don't presume to propose the toast myself... but Frank knows.... Go
ahead, Grisben!"

The boy shone on his uncle. "No, no, Uncle Jack! Mr. Grisben won't mind.
Nobody but _you_--today!"

The butler was replenishing the glasses. He filled Mr. Lavington's last,
and Mr. Lavington put out his small hand to raise it.... As he did so,
Faxon looked away.

"Well, then--All the good I've wished you in all the past years.... I
put it into the prayer that the coming ones may be healthy and happy and
many... and _many_, dear boy!"

Faxon saw the hands about him reach out for their glasses.
Automatically, he reached for his. His eyes were still on the table, and
he repeated to himself with a trembling vehemence: "I won't look up! I
won't.... I won't...."

His finders clasped the glass and raised it to the level of his lips.
He saw the other hands making the same motion. He heard Mr. Grisben's
genial "Hear! Hear!" and Mr. Batch's hollow echo. He said to himself,
as the rim of the glass touched his lips: "I won't look up! I swear I
won't!--" and he looked.

The glass was so full that it required an extraordinary effort to hold
it there, brimming and suspended, during the awful interval before he
could trust his hand to lower it again, untouched, to the table. It was
this merciful preoccupation which saved him, kept him from crying out,
from losing his hold, from slipping down into the bottomless blackness
that gaped for him. As long as the problem of the glass engaged him he
felt able to keep his seat, manage his muscles, fit unnoticeably into
the group; but as the glass touched the table his last link with safety
snapped. He stood up and dashed out of the room.

IV

In the gallery, the instinct of self-preservation helped him to turn
back and sign to young Rainer not to follow. He stammered out something
about a touch of dizziness, and joining them presently; and the boy
nodded sympathetically and drew back.

At the foot of the stairs Faxon ran against a servant. "I should like to
telepho