Anne, with a happy smile, gave Pierre the order, and in a minute they were sitting about a little table, with an opportunity for a few minutes’ talk at a moderate pitch of voice, differing from those hurried, merry meetings in a crowd of laughing, talking, moving people which usually constitute a Washington call. While they were sitting there, all three enjoying themselves and Mrs. Clavering not the least of the three, a belated caller was announced, General Brandon. The General was in his Sunday frock coat, which had seen good service, and his silk hat, which belonged by rights on the retired list; but each was carefully brushed and clearly belonged to a gentleman. General Brandon himself, handsome, soldierly, his white mustache and hair neatly clipped, was grace, elegance, and amiability personified. His head was none of the best, but for beauty, courage, and gentleness he was unmatched. Anne received him with more than her usual cordiality, and Mrs. Clavering was so pleased at seeing him that she actually invited him to sit down at her tea–table and have tea. This he did, explaining why his daughter had sent her cards instead of coming. “Another year, I hope, my dear madam, my daughter may be persuaded to reënter society, which, if you will pardon a father’s pride, I think she adorns. But at present she is overwhelmed with grief at her loss. It is scarcely eighteen months since she became a widow and lost the best of husbands.” General Brandon prattled on, and presently said: “I had hoped to meet Senator Clavering here this afternoon, and made my visit late on purpose. His exacting senatorial duties, however, must leave him little time for social relaxation.” “I think I hear his step in the hall now,” said Anne. “He will, I know, be very much pleased to meet you again.” As she spoke Clavering’s firm tread was heard, and he entered, smiling, debonair, and distinguished–looking. Nobody would have dreamed from anything in his air or looks that this man was nearing a crisis in his fate, and that even then his conduct was being revealed in the newspapers and examined by his fellow–senators in a way which opened a wide, straight vista to state’s prison. Clavering was surprised, but undeniably pleased, and even amused at seeing Baskerville; and Baskerville felt like a hound, and inwardly swore at himself for letting the wish to see a woman’s eyes bring him to Clavering’s house. He put a bold face upon it, however, shook Clavering’s outstretched hand, and called himself a fool and a rogue for so doing.