"You shall sit down in a smock frock if you like," she said. "But there is no occasion. I have brought Leycester's things down, and--it's not the first time you have borrowed suits from each other, I expect." "Not by a many!" laughed Lord Charles. "I'll go and dress. Where is Ley?" Leycester had gone out of the room quietly, and was then sitting beside Lilian, his hand in hers, her head upon his breast. "You have come back to us, Ley?" she said, caressing his hand. "It has been so long and weary waiting! You will not go again?" He paused a moment, then he looked at her. "No," he said, in a low voice. "No, Lil, I shall not go again." She kissed him, and as she did so, whispered, anxiously: "And--and--Stella, Ley?" His face contracted with a frown of pain and trouble. "That is all past," he said, using his mother's words; and she kissed him again. "How thin and worn you look. Oh, Ley!" she murmured, with sorrowful, loving reproach. He smiled with a touch of bitterness. "Do I? Well, I will wax fat and grow mirthful for the future," he said, rising. "There is the dinner bell." "Come to me afterward, Ley," she pleaded, as she let him go, and he promised. There was to be no fuss, but it was noteworthy that several of Leycester's favorite dishes figured in the menu, and that there was a special Indian curry for Lord Charles. Leycester did not descend to the dining-room till ten minutes after the time, and the greeting between father and son was characteristic of the two men. The earl put out his thin, white hand, and smiled gravely. "How do you do, Leycester," he said. "Will you have the Lafitte or the Chateau Margaux? The weather is fine for the time of year." And Leycester said, quietly: "I hope you are well, sir. The Margaux, I suppose, Charles? Yes, we have had some good weather." That was all. He went to his place and sat down quietly and composedly, as if he had dined with them for months without a break, and as if the papers had not been chronicling his awful doings. The earl could not suppress a pang of pity as he glanced across at the handsome face and saw how worn and haggard it looked, and he bent his head over his soup with a sigh. Leycester looked round the table presently, and then turned to the countess. "Where is Lenore?" he asked. The countess paused a moment. "She has rather a bad headache, and begged to be excused," she said. Leycester bent his head. "I am sorry," he remarked. Then the countess talked, and Lord Charles helped her. He was in the best of spirits. The dinner was excellent, and the curry admirable, considering the short notice; and he was delighted with the success of his maneuver. He rattled on in his humorous style, told them all about the hut, and represented that they lived somewhat after the manner of savages. "Eat our meals with a hunting knife, don't we, Leycester? I hope you'll excuse us if we don't hold our forks properly. I daresay we shall soon get into the way of it again."