is sister always kept in readiness.

On reaching the house Carrissima was disappointed to hear that Sybil
had gone away the previous morning.

"When do you expect her back?" asked Carrissima.

"I have no idea," said the butler; "but Mr. Clynesworth might know."

"Mr. Clynesworth is in London then?" cried Carrissima, and in fact, he
came out of the dining-room on the left of the hall the next moment.

The Favershams, the Drivers and the Clynesworths were old friends.
They had known each other from their earliest years, and the three boys
had gone to the same preparatory school at Brighton. Sybil,
considerably the oldest of the group, tried still to hope that Jimmy
would marry Carrissima, although for that matter, she would have
rejoiced to see him the husband of any woman whom she could love.

Jimmy Clynesworth was about thirty years of age; a little younger than
Lawrence Faversham, a little older than Mark Driver. In height he was
between them, a little above the average; not a tall man, certainly not
short, well built, but not noticeably broad-shouldered, and wearing
this afternoon a rough, darkish tweed suit, fitting him rather loosely.
In fact, you could not imagine Jimmy tightly buttoned up or putting on
an uncomfortably high collar, or doing anything solely for the sake of
appearances.

He had a somewhat round face, with straight dark hair and an almost
downy-looking moustache, which barely hid his lips, although it was not
brushed upwards in the mode of the moment. His eyes were rather far
apart and he was characterized by an appearance of perfect health and
equability of temperament.

"Hullo, Carrissima!" he exclaimed, coming forward to the door with his
hand outstretched, "what a stroke of luck!"

"I wanted to see Sybil," she explained.

"She has gone to the Ramsbottoms," said Jimmy. "Old Lady Ramsbottom
was taken ill. She sent for Sybil yesterday, as people do when they're
seedy, you know. Won't you come in?" he added.

"No, thank you, Jimmy. I mustn't stay," returned Carrissima.

"Now, that's sheer conventionality," he insisted. "You would really
like to come in and have a talk, but for the melancholy reason that I'm
alone, you're afraid."

"Oh, wise young judge!" said Carrissima.

"Well, if you're obstinate I'll walk back with you," he suggested,
taking a bowler hat from the stand, while the butler handed his gloves
and cane. "I've nothing in the world to do," he added, as they walked