he place or--or live here?"

That was an unusually long speech for Lucy Varr, and it betrayed her
lively interest in the subject under discussion. Simon must have noted
that and perhaps resented it, for his face darkened. He made no
comment, however, but celebrated the end of dinner in his usual manner
by pushing back his chair a little, crossing his legs comfortably, and
beginning a series of excavating operations with a quill toothpick
which he drew from his vest pocket. Miss Ocky winced. This was the
postprandial habit of his that annoyed her excessively.

She had not changed for dinner. Now she took a cigarette case from a
side pocket of her coat, extracted a cigarette and lighted it from one
of the candles. Simon did not smoke himself, and he disliked intensely
the sight of a woman using tobacco. He glanced at Ocky, and to her
deep satisfaction made a wry face at the cloud of smoke she contentedly
exhaled. Winces were easy.

The little circle broke up after dinner. Varr went off to his study
and shut himself in, his wife pleaded a headache, and with a word of
apology to her sister departed for her bedroom. Ocky, amiably anxious
to distract her nephew's thoughts from whatever he was glooming over,
suggested a game of chess. Finding this had not been included in his
college curriculum, she announced that she would settle herself in the
living-room with some new books that had come.

She went upstairs for one of these, and returned bearing it and a small
sheathed dagger with a highly ornamented handle. She found Copley in
the living-room, attired in a raincoat, standing and looking at the
closed door leading to Simon's study. Miss Ocky settled herself in a
chair by the lamp on the center table, drew the dagger from its worn
leather sheath and proceeded to cut the pages of Henner's "Through
Asia." She glanced up whimsically at her nephew.

"Well, Copley, are you posing for a statue of indecision?"

"Something like that, Aunt Ocky." He smiled ruefully. "I was going
for a tramp, then I thought I'd drop in for a chat with father--and now
I think I won't have a chat with him, but will go for a walk."

"It's pouring, isn't it?"

"I don't care."

"Of course, you don't. I know that mood--and a good sloshing hike in
the rain is a splendid cure for it. I know what's the matter with you,
too." She shot a look at the closed door and lowered her voice. "Why
don't you cut the Gordian knot and be done w