these days. I should have thought we
were living in an age of ever-changing values. . . ."

"You're quite wrong, Miss Devereux," said Vane. "Quite, quite wrong.
The little things may change--the froth on the top of the pool, which
everyone sees and knows about; but the big fundamental things are
always the same. . . ."

"And what are your big fundamental things?" she demanded.

Vane looked at her for a few moments before he answered her lightly.
"Things on which there can be no disagreement even though they are my
own views. Love and the pleasure of congenial work, and health. . . .
Just think of having to live permanently with anybody whose digestion
has gone. . . ."

"May you never _have_ to do it," said the girl quietly. Then she
turned and walked towards the door. "I suppose it's about time to
dress, isn't it?" She went out of the room and Mr. Sutton advanced on
Vane, with his hand upraised, like the villain of a melodrama when on
the point of revealing a secret, unaware of the comic relief ensconced
in the hollow tree.

"My dear fellow," he whispered hoarsely. "You've said the wrong
thing." He peered round earnestly at the door, to make sure Joan had
not returned. "Baxter--the man she's going to marry--is a perfect
martyr to indigestion. It is the one thorn in the rose. A most
suitable match in every other way, but he lives"--and the old gentleman
tapped Vane on the shoulder to emphasise this hideous thing--"he lives
on rusks and soda-water."

Vane threw the end of his cigarette in the fire and laughed. "There's
always a catch somewhere, isn't there, Mr. Sutton? . . . . I'm afraid
I shall have to ask you to excuse my changing; I've only got this khaki
with me."

Vane was standing in front of the big open hearth in the hall when Joan
came down for dinner. It was the first time he had seen her in an
evening dress, and as she came slowly towards him from the foot of the
stairs his hands clenched behind his back, and he set his teeth. In
her simple black evening frock she was lovely to the point of making
any man's senses swim dizzily. And when the man happened to be in love
with her, and knew, moreover, that she was in love with him, it was not
to be wondered at that he put both hands to his head, with a sudden
almost despairing movement.

The girl, as she reached him, saw the gesture, and her eyes grew very
soft. Its interpretation was not hard to discover, even if she had not
had the g