The Rev. Byrne Fraser, who gave his wife great and constant anxiety by his fantasies, related how he had curious dreams--the distressing part of which was that they never came true--about the death of relatives at the front. Another man also had morbid fancies on the subject of the casualty list, and had had to go and stay at a farm so as to 'get right away from it all'. But he soon left, as he had found, to his great disappointment, that his companions there were not intellectual, and could not even talk politics or discuss literature. And yet they went in (or so he had heard) for 'intensive culture'!... Presently Sir Tito played his Italian march. The musical portion of the party, and the unmusical alike, joined in the chorus. Then the party received a welcome addition. Valdez, the great composer, who had written many successful operas and had lived so much abroad that he cared now for nothing but British music, looked in after a patriotic concert given in order to help the unengaged professionals. Always loyal to old friends, he had deserted royalty itself tonight to greet Mrs. Mitchell and was persuaded by adoring ladies to sing his celebrated old song, 'After Several Years.' It pleased and thrilled the audience even more than Landi's 'Adieu Hiver'. Indeed, tonight it was Valdez who was the success of the evening. Middle-aged ladies who had loved him for years loved him now more than ever. Young girls who saw him now for the first time fell in love, just as their mothers had done, with his splendid black eyes and commanding presence, and secretly longed to stroke at least every seventh wave of his abundant hair. When Edith assured him that his curls were 'like a flock of goats on Mount Gilead' he laughed, declared he was much flattered at the comparison, and kissed her hand with courtly grace. Young Mr. Cricker, who came because he wasn't asked, insisted on dancing like Nijinsky because he was begged not to, but his leaps and bounds were soon stopped by a few subalterns and very young officers on leave, who insisted, with some fair partners, on dancing the Fox Trot to the sound of a gramophone. * * * * * For a few moments on the little sofa Edith managed to convey the rest of her confidence to Landi. She pointed out how hurried, how urgent, how pressing it was to give an answer. 'He wants a war elopement, I see,' said Landi. 'Mais ca ne se fait pas!' 'Then what am I to say?' 'Rien.' 'But, Landi, you know I shan't really ever...' 'Would it give you pleasure to see him married to the Spanish girl?' 'She's not exactly Spanish--she only looks it. Don't laugh like that!' 'I don't know why, but Spain seems always to remind me of something ridiculous. Onions--or guitars.' 'Well, I shouldn't mind her nearly so much as anyone else.' 'You don't mind her,' said Landi. 'Vous savez qu'il ne l'epouse pas? What would you dislike him to do most?'