"I beg your pardon?" Cosden interrogated, but no explanation was vouchsafed. "This looks to me like a council of war," Huntington remarked. "Call it rather a demobilization," Thatcher corrected. "I have made myself everlastingly unpopular by deciding to return to New York on Monday. Marian insists on leaving when I do, and the Stevenses are equally considerate of my pleasure. So I've spoiled everything." "I have only been waiting for some one stronger than I to determine my own departure, so I include myself among the refugees. And Hamlen will go with me, won't you, my friend?" Hamlen held up his hand deprecatingly. "I must complete my sentence of exile," he said with finality. "Have you heard anything from New York?" Cosden inquired. "I left orders not to cable." "The market is bad, and liable to become worse." "Then my vacation is over, too. How about the trolley project?" "Another postponement. I'll give you the details later." "Mr. Hamlen has invited us to have tea with him to-morrow afternoon as a farewell celebration, and I have accepted for all." "Not a farewell, Mrs. Thatcher," Huntington corrected, looking across at Hamlen. "There are some souls to whom we never say farewell. If he won't come with us now it simply means a brief postponement. This friend of mine cannot come into my life as he has done these weeks and then go out of it again. He and I have already lost too many years of the companionship which should have been ours; now together we must make up for lost time." Hamlen looked at him gratefully but did not answer. In single file the little party walked along the narrow edge of the pool, down the steps and back to the hotel. Cosden manoeuvered so that he had a word with Edith before they separated. "I sha'n't let you be cross with me," he said. "I'm not cross; 'disgusted' is the word if you really want to know." "But suppose my speaking was more sudden than my decision?" "I would rather not discuss it, if you please." "I've seen a great deal more of you than I have of Merry--" "But when you make up your mind, Mr. Cosden--" Edith recalled his own words. "I never change it without reason," he replied. "And more than that, it is very unprofessional to desert a client just when he needs you most." "When a client disregards his counsel's advice it is time to change counsel," she retorted with decision. "Oh, dear, no!" Cosden replied in so conciliatory a tone that she was partly mollified. The words rang with greater sincerity than she had believed him to possess. "That isn't the way real counsels do at all, especially when the client is so contrite." "What is their custom?" Edith asked, amused in spite of herself. "They charge it up on the bill and make him pay handsomely for his presumption." "Oh!" she said, weakening a little in the caustic attitude she had assumed. "If it comes down to a matter of bookkeeping perhaps we can effect a compromise." * * * * * XX