Several times the ruddy features of Smull cut his rather hazy line of vision; but he didn’t discover anybody resembling Eris in the vicinity. He had handed his latest partner over to Frank Donnell, and had swung on his heel to avoid a large group of people. And at that moment he saw Eris. The sheer beauty of the girl startled him, and it was an appreciable moment before he realised that her grey eyes were encountering his. Annan seldom reddened. He did now. He was not certain, either, but that she was administering a cut direct, because there was no recognition in the grey eyes, no smile. There were a number of men standing about between them; he hesitated to invite the full snub he deserved. Then he saw her silently disengage herself from the group about her and start directly toward him. That galvanised him into action--rather brusquely--for he brushed a few stalwart shoulders as he caught the hand she extended in both of his. “Can’t we find some quiet place----” she said unsteadily. He drew her arm through his and they made their way in silence across the floor toward a vista of offices now banked with palms and flowers and invaded by the few who courted seclusion and each other. A girl and a man gave them an unfriendly look as they entered the last of the offices, and presently took themselves off. Eris glanced absently at the chairs they had vacated, then released her arm, turned and walked slowly to the embrasure of the window. When he came to her she made a little gesture;--he waited. After a while: “I couldn’t control my voice,” she said.... “I am so happy to see you.” For the first time in his life, perhaps, speech stuck in his glib throat. She said: “I wondered if you were going to be here. Are you quite well? You seem so.” “And you Eris?” “Yes;--tired, though.” “You are successful. I’ve heard that.” “I have very much to learn, Mr. Annan.... There seems to be no end to study.... But there is no other pleasure or excitement comparable to it.” “Are you still hot on the trail of Truth?” he ventured with a forced smile. She laughed frankly: “Yes, and do you know that hunting truth doesn’t seem to be a popular sport?” Then, more seriously: “Of what value is anything else, Mr. Annan? Why isn’t truth more popular? Could you tell me why?” The old, remembered cry of Eris--“Could you tell me _why?_”--was sounding in his ears again--the same wistful, familiar question. If Annan had now regained his native equanimity it was entirely due to this girl who had not even deigned to admit any awkwardness in their encounter. And he realised, gratefully, that she was continuing to ignore any lesser detail than the happy fact of reunion. “So that’s your idea of happiness?” he said, gratefully reassured. “It always was. I told you so long ago.”