t, a _very_ proud moment, when he had
been taken behind at the Lyceum and presented to Sir Henry Irving. There
followed an ingenuous account of his make-up. . . . Eric smiled
elastically, stroking his chin and letting his gaze wander round the
white panelled walls, the gilt sofa and chairs and the gold and white
overmantel--the coming of Dionysus to Europe in a chariot drawn by
lions. He realized for the first time how much he hated overmantels.

Sybil was now talking to Agnes, but she withdrew discreetly at his
approach and gave him an opportunity, as they went in to dinner, for a
question about Jack.

"We've heard nothing since the August report that he was missing," said
Agnes. "I'm keeping my mind a blank. I couldn't build all sorts of
wonderful hopes on his being a prisoner and then, perhaps, have to go
through the whole thing again. . . . Mother's quite certain, of course;
but then mothers are like that, bless them. . . . I'll let you know, if
we hear any news, Eric."

"Thanks very much. By the way, can you spare me one of the van Laun
photographs of him?"

Agnes thought for a moment and then wrinkled her forehead.

"He was never taken by van Laun."

"But I've seen one."

"Where?"

"He gave one to Lady Barbara Neave."

Her forehead wrinkled in deeper lines of perplexity.

"I didn't know he even knew her. . . . He never mentioned her name; I
suppose he thought I should disapprove."

Eric was tempted to coax an opinion of Barbara; but they had known each
other for less than a week, and, if he went round collecting the
judgements of all who had ever heard of her, no one would believe that a
serene, professional spirit of enquiry prompted his curiosity. While
native caution kept him hesitating, the opportunity slipped away; Agnes
surrendered to the boisterous advances of Geoff, and he turned to find
Mrs. Nares tentatively conversational on his left.

For a quarter of an hour Eric listened with one ear to the parish
history of Lashmar. Unknown names married and begot families; unknown
names sickened and died or were unexpectedly revived when the copiously
described symptoms had rendered recovery an affront to the imagination;
a few unknown names joined the army; one man was a prisoner, another
wounded; and two more lastingly discredited Lashmar by saying that, when
the army wanted them, the army could come and take them. Eric was
informed that he would hardly know the dear old village now; he felt
that