I was a boy--a well-read man, thoughtful, clever. A good musician;
something more than an amateur with the violin, I believe. An artist,
too; he had a 'bust in the Academy a few years ago, and I've seen some
capital etchings of his."

"A universal genius!" said Lilian, with a forced laugh.

"Well, there's no doubt he has come very near success in a good many
directions. Never _quite_ succeeded; there's the misfortune. I suppose
he lacks perseverance. But he doesn't care; takes everything with a
laugh and a joke."

He reached for the evening newspaper, and glanced absently over the
columns. For a minute or two there was silence.

"What have you told him?" Lilian asked at length, in an undertone.

"Why, simply that I have had reasons for keeping my marriage secret."

He spoke in a blunt, authoritative way, but with his usual kindly smile.

"I thought it better," he added, "after that chance meeting the other
day. He's a fellow one can trust, I assure you. Thoroughly
good-hearted. As you know, I don't readily make friends, and I'm the
last man to give my confidence to any one who doesn't deserve it. But
Glazzard and I have always understood each other pretty well, and--at
all events, he knows me well enough to be satisfied with as much as I
choose to tell him."

Quarrier had the air of a man who, without any vulgar patronage, and in
a spirit of abundant good-nature, classifies his acquaintance in
various degrees of subordination to himself. He was too healthy, too
vigorous of frame and frank in manner to appear conceited, but it was
evident that his experience of life had encouraged a favourable
estimate of his own standing and resources. The ring of his voice was
sound; no affectation or insincerity marred its notes. For all that, he
seemed just now not entirely comfortable; his pretence of looking over
the paper in the intervals of talk was meant to cover a certain
awkwardness in discussing the subject he had broached.

"You don't object to his coming, Lily?"

"No; whatever you think best, dear."

"I'm quite sure you'll find him pleasant company. But we must get him a
dinner, somehow. I'll go to some hotel to-morrow morning and put the
thing in their hands; they'll send a cook, or do something or other. If
the girl had been here we should have managed well enough; Glazzard is
no snob.--I want to smoke; come into my study, will you? No fire? Get
up some wood, there's a good girl, we'll soon set it going. I'd f