And now, to-night, Mrs. Tropenell suddenly remembered that Lord St. Amant was coming to dinner--she had forgotten it in the excitement of Oliver's return. But she told herself, with a kind of eagerness, that her old friend's presence might, after all, make things easier for them all! It is always easier to manage a party of four people than of three. Also, it made less marked the fact of Laura's presence on this, the first evening, of Oliver's return home. Mrs. Tropenell had not been able to discover from her son's manner whether he was glad or sorry Laura was coming to-night. And sitting there, waiting for her guests, she anxiously debated within herself whether Oliver would have preferred to see Laura for the first time alone. Of course he could have offered to go and fetch her; but he had not availed himself of that excuse, and his mother knew that she would be present at their meeting. The door opened, quietly, and as had been the case a year ago, Mrs. Tropenell saw her beautiful visitor before Laura knew that there was any one in the darkened room. Once more Mrs. Tropenell had a curious feeling as if time had slipped back, and that everything was happening over again. The only difference was that Laura to-night was all in black, with no admixture of white. Still, by an odd coincidence the gown she was wearing was made exactly as had been that other gown last year, and through the thin black folds of chiffon her lovely white arms shone palely, revealingly.... And then, as her guest came into the circle of light, Mrs. Tropenell realised with a feeling almost of shock that Laura was very much changed. She no longer had the sad, strained, rather severe look on her face which had been there last year. She looked younger, instead of older, and there was an expression of half-eager, half-shrinking expectation on her face--to-night. "Aunt Letty? How good of you to ask me----" But her voice sank away into silence as the sound of quick footsteps were heard hastening across the hall. The door opened, and Oliver Tropenell came in. He walked straight to Laura, and took both her hands in his. "You got my cable?" he asked. And then Laura blushed, overwhelmingly. She had had said nothing of that cable to Mrs. Tropenell. And as they stood there--Oliver still grasping Laura's hands in his--the mother, looking on, saw with a mixture of joy and of jealous pain that Laura stood before him as if hypnotised, her heavy-lidded blue eyes fixed upwards on his dark, glowing face. Suddenly they all three heard the at once plaintive and absurd hoot of Lord St. Amant's motor--and it was as if a deep spell had suddenly been broken. Slowly, reluctantly, Oliver released Laura's hands, and Mrs. Tropenell exclaimed in a voice which had a tremor in it: "It's Lord St. Amant, Oliver. I forgot that he had asked himself to dinner to-night. He said he could not come till half-past eight, but I suppose he got away earlier than he expected to do."