"Why!"--he recollected himself almost instantaneously--"this certainly is some surprise, but I do congratulate you--both!" With a stride he seized the hand Venetia could not refuse him, and pressed it warmly. "You're the luckiest man I ever knew!" he declared, turning to clasp hands with Matthias. Instinctively the latter met his powerful grasp with one as forceful. "Thank you," he said, smiling gravely into the other's eyes. Under his firm but pleasant regard they wavered and fell, then steadied with a glint of temper. Their hands fell apart. Marbridge stepped back. "Perhaps I don't know you well enough, Mr. Matthias, to congratulate Miss Tankerville as heartily as I do you; but I'm persuaded she's not liable to make any serious mistake." Matthias nodded thoughtfully. "I understand: your intentions are excellent. I'm sure we both thank you. Venetia--?" "Mr. Marbridge is very amiable," said the girl, a hint of mirth modifying her composure. "But I'm afraid, Helena," she added quickly--"if you don't mind--I think I'll go to my room." To Marbridge she gave a quaint little bow that was half an old-fashioned courtesy, robbed of formality by her spirited smile: to Matthias her hand and a gentle "Good night!" Taking the arm of her sister-in-law, she drew her toward the house. Watching them until they disappeared, Marbridge chuckled quietly. "Took my breath away!" he declared. "Why, I never suspected for an instant!..." He dropped heavily but with characteristic grace into a chair. "It takes you quiet boys to get away with the girls like Venetia--all fire and dash!" "Yes," said Matthias reflectively: "it does--doesn't it? Have another cigarette?" He offered his case. "You dropped yours...." "Thanks.... She's a thoroughbred, all right. I reckon if I wasn't a mite too middle-aged, maybe I might've set you a pace that you'd've found lively going." "Well, let's be thankful nothing of that sort happened, at all events." Marbridge looked up over his match and lifted his brows; but if in reality a retort trembled on his lips, he thought better of it; and before either spoke again, Tankerville was on the terrace, brandishing pudgy arms. "Hey, you!" he called fretfully. "Don't you know you're holding us all up? Come on in...."