y and without any enthusiasm. It was not considered
quite good form to be enthusiastic; it was apt to lead you into rather
uncertain company with such people as Socialists and the Salvation Army.

"I'm glad he's coming--quite a nice fellow," said Clare, looking at the
gold clock on the mantelpiece. "The train is shockingly late. On
'Pater' you said! I must try and get the _National_--Miss Ponsonby
takes it, I think. It's unusual for Garrett to be unpunctual."

He entered at the same moment--a tall, thin man of forty years of age,
clean shaven and rather bald, with a very slight squint in the right
eye. He walked slowly, and always gave the impression that he saw
nothing of his surroundings. For the rest, he was said to be extremely
cynical and had more than a fair share of the Trojan pride.

"The train is late," he said, addressing no one in particular.
"Father, how are you this evening?"

This third attack on Sir Jeremy was repelled by a snort, which Garrett
accepted as an answer. "Robin, your tie is atrocious," he continued,
picking up the _Times_ and opening it slowly; "you had better change
it."

Robin was prevented from answering by the sound of carriage-wheels on
the drive. Clare rose and stood by the fireplace near Sir Jeremy;
Garrett read to the end of the paragraph and folded the paper on his
knee; Robin fingered his watch-chain nervously and moved to his aunt's
side--only Sir Jeremy remained motionless and gave no sign that he had
heard.

Perhaps he was thinking of that day twenty years before when, after a
very heated interview, he had forbidden his son to see his face again
until he had done something that definitely justified his existence.
Harry had certainly done several things since then that justified his
existence; he had, for one thing, made a fortune, and that was not so
easily done nowadays. Harry was five-and-forty now; he must be very
much changed; he had steadied down, of course ... he would be well
able to take his place as head of the family when Sir Jeremy himself....

But he gave no sign. You could not tell that he had heard the
carriage-wheels at all; he lay motionless in his chair with his eyes
half closed.

There were voices in the hall. Beldam's superlatively courteous tones
as of one who is ready to die to serve you, and then another
voice--rather loud and sharp, but pleasant, with the sound of a laugh
in it.

"They are in the blue drawing-room, sir--Mr. Henry," B