As they entered the drawing-room by one door, Mary, looking very handsome and imposing in a low black dress, which became her fair beauty admirably, appeared at the other. Catching sight of Morris, she ran, or rather glided, forward with the graceful gait that was one of her distinctions, and caught him by both hands, bending her face towards him in open and unmistakable invitation. In a moment it was over somehow, and she was saying: “Morris, how thin you look, and there are great black lines under your eyes! Uncle, what have you been doing to him?” “When I have had the pleasure of saying, How-do-you-do to you, my dear,” he replied in a somewhat offended voice—for the Colonel was not fond of being overlooked, even in favour of an interesting son—“I shall be happy to do my best to answer your question.” “Oh! I am so sorry,” she said, advancing her forehead to be kissed; “but we saw each other the other day, didn’t we, and one can’t embrace two people at once, and of course one must begin somewhere. But, why have you made him so thin?” The Colonel surveyed Morris critically with his eyeglass. “Really, my dear Mary,” he replied, “I am not responsible for the variations in my son’s habit of body.” Then, as Morris turned away irritably, he added in a stage whisper, “He’s been a bit upset, poor fellow! He felt your father’s death dreadfully.” Mary winced a little, then, recovering her vivacity, said: “Well, at any rate, uncle, I am glad to see that nothing of the sort has affected your health; I never saw you looking better.” “Ah! my dear, as we grow older we learn resignation——” “And how to look after ourselves,” thought Mary. At that moment dinner was announced, and she went in on Morris’s arm, the Colonel gallantly insisting that it should be so. After this things progressed a good deal better. The first plunge was over, and the cool refreshing waters of Mary’s conversation seemed to give back to Morris’s system some of the tone that it had lost. Also, when he thought fit to use it, he had a strong will, and he thought fit this night. Lastly, like many a man in a quandary before him, he discovered the strange advantages of a scientific but liberal absorption of champagne. Mary noticed this as she noticed everything, and said presently with her eyes wide open: “Might I ask, my dear, if you are—ill? You are eating next to nothing, and that’s your fourth large glass of champagne—you who never drank more than two. Don’t you remember how it used to vex my poor dad, because he said that it always meant half a bottle wasted, and a temptation to the cook?” Morris laughed—he was able to laugh by now—and replied, as it happened, with perfect truth, that he had an awful toothache.