"Why, she didn't look like that," said Mangan, thoughtfully. "Not the least. She has got a splendid forehead--powerful and clear--and almost too much character about the square brows and the calm eyes. I should have taken her to be a strongly intellectual woman, of the finer and more reticent type. Well, well, a salmon-fisher!" "Why shouldn't she be both?" "Why, indeed?" said Maurice, absently; and therewith he relapsed (as was frequently his wont) into silence, and in silence the two friends pursued their way eastwards to Lionel's rooms. But when they had arrived at their destination, when soda-water had been produced and opened, and when Mangan was lying back in an easy-chair, regarding his friend, he resumed the conversation. "I should have thought going to see those people to-night would have brightened you up a little," he began, "but you seem thoroughly out of sorts, Linn. What is the matter? Overwork or worry? I should not think overwork; I've never seen your theatre-business prove too much for you. Worry? What about, then?" "There may be different things," Lionel said, evasively, as he brought over the spirit case. "I haven't been sleeping well of late--lying awake even if I don't go to bed till three or four; and I get a singing in my ears sometimes that is bothersome. Oh, never mind me; I'm all right." "But I'm going to mind you, for you are not all right. Is it money?" "No, no." "What, then? There is something seriously worrying you." "Oh, there are several things," Lionel exclaimed, forced at last into confession. "I can't think what has become of Nina Ross, that's one thing; if I only knew she was safe and well, I don't think I should mind the other things. No, not a bit. But there was something about her going away that I can't explain to you, only I--I was responsible in a sort of way; and Nina and I were always such good friends and companions. Well, it's no use talking about that. Then there's another little detail," he added, with an air of indifference: "I'm engaged to be married." Mangan stared at him. "Engaged to be married?" he repeated, as if he had not heard aright. "To whom?" "Miss Burgoyne." "Miss Burgoyne--of the New Theatre?" "The same." "Are you out of your senses, Linn!" Maurice cried, angrily. "No, I don't think so," he said, and he went to the mantelpiece for a cigarette. "How did it come about?" demanded Maurice, again. "Oh, I don't know. It isn't of much consequence, is it?" Lionel answered, carelessly. Then Maurice instantly reflected that, if this thing were really done, it was not for him to protest.