kle and a
simple epigram which he had already tried with effect on Mrs. Shelley.
They were joined by Mrs. Waring, and, as he had hardly spoken to her all
the evening, he consented to talk about his forthcoming play--which he
enjoyed as little as a superstitious mother might enjoy describing her
unborn child--until in a subsequent regrouping she confided to Sybil
that she was very much attached to Eric; he was so unspoiled, so
charming. . . .

"Aren't you rather proud of him?" she asked.

"Yes. He's very clever and he's had a big success," Sybil conceded
critically. "But, if any one says 'Lane,' the whole world thinks of
Eric, while father, who's spent his life----"

She was interrupted by Mr. Nares, who stationed himself at her elbow,
coughing apologetically until she gave him an opportunity of asking her
to sing. As she went to the piano, Eric moved across the room to Agnes'
chair and suggested that they should go out on the terrace.

"It's stifling in here," he grumbled; and, after a quick sidelong
glance, Agnes followed him.

They strolled through one of the French windows to a long gravel path,
which ran flush with the inky, slow-moving mill-stream. Overhead the
trees stretched across the narrow ribbon of water, brushing the back of
the house and releasing brittle leaves of copper and dull gold to
undulate in the breeze before they settled on the surface and swept
gently over the creaking wheel. A crescent moon was reflected
unwaveringly in the black water, and the autumn breeze blew a scent of
decaying, damp vegetation from the dense woods all around them.

"Remember when we used to have races with paper boats, Agnes?" Eric
asked suddenly.

She nodded, wondering why he had reminded her.

"What years ago it seems!"

"Only about five. Though we were both old enough to know better."

"It seems longer," said Agnes, looking at him thoughtfully and wondering
whether he had only invited her out there as a demonstration against
Sybil for disparaging him to her mother.

"I don't _feel_ a day older."

"You're changed. We were all of us saying that before you came into the
drawing-room to-night. Your mother's rather worried about you, Eric."

He lighted a cigarette to shew the steadiness of hand and eyes.

"She needn't bother," he answered easily. "I'm carrying a good deal of
sail--but I'm better than I've ever been. Agnes, I don't usually talk
about what I'm only _thinking_ of doing, but with you it's
diffe