"When a man is in love he pays no ordinary attentions. He has eyes for no one but the lady." The General's umbrella, as it descended from the face of Andrew Jackson and rattled on the flagged path, supplied each word with emphasis. "However, it is no good talking, and I don't exactly know why I should put my old oar in. But the fact is I feel a certain responsibility. People here have been uncommonly civil. Well, well!--I've wired to-day to ask if there is a berth left in the _Venetia_ for Saturday. And you, I suppose"--the inquiry was somewhat peremptory--"will be going back to New York?" "I have no intention of leaving Washington just yet," said Roger, with decision. "And may I ask what you intend to do here?" Roger laughed. "I really think that's my business. However, you've been an awful brick, Uncle Archie, to stay on like this. I assure you, if I don't say much, I think it." By this time they had reached the hotel, the steps and hall of which were full of people. "That's how you put me off." The General's tone was resentful. "And you won't give me any idea of the line I am to take with your mother?" The young man smiled again and waved an evasive hand. "If you'll only be patient a little longer, Uncle Archie----" At this point an acquaintance of the General's who was smoking in the hall came forward to greet him, and Roger made his escape. * * * * * "Well, what the deuce _do_ I mean to do?" Barnes asked himself the question deliberately. He was hanging out of the window, in his bedroom, smoking and pondering. It was a mild and rainy night. Washington was full of the earth and leaf odours of the spring, which rose in gusts from its trees and gardens; and rugged, swiftly moving clouds disclosed every now and then what looked like hurrying stars.