It was a physical impossibility, in the temporarily empty days following immediately Epes’ arrival home, for his spiritual darkness to stay at its intensest; at least his state of mourning made it unnecessary for him to go to the meaningless parties being then crowded into the heart of the winter season. It was uncomfortable for him at home, and he fell into the habit of lounging through the afternoons in the more informal of the Balavans’ drawing-rooms. There, in his special position and license, he was permitted to smoke his cheroots and listen to the light easy run of Annice’s voice, so much like the easy light tripping of her fingers over the keyboard of the spinet. He was engaged in exactly this manner an hour or so before Annice’s departure for one of the principal cotillons of the year, at Hamilton Hall; and Annice, who had dressed early so that she could be with him, was sitting erectly by an opposite wall. Sumatra was present, too; a fact to which her elder sister repeatedly called attention by urging the necessity of Sumatra’s changing for the ball. Sumatra, Epes had learned, had been half permitted and half coerced into going. “I can get ready in twelve minutes,” she announced. “I don’t doubt that,” Annice retorted; “but what will you look like when it is done? In the first place your hair is like wire and takes the longest while to be really possible----” “It won’t matter,” said Sumatra; “Epes told me I couldn’t make myself attractive, no matter how much we all tried.” “Did you say that, Epes?” Annice asked. “It was rather tactless of you, because, though you’d never guess it, Sumatra is crazy about you. It might even be more than I am.” Epes Calef gazed at Sumatra with a brutal indifference. She met his eyes courageously, and in an even voice replied to her sister. “I was once,” she corrected the other, “when I thought that Epes belonged to the sea. But now he’s on land--” She made a gesture of dismissal. “Epes, while I suspect he’s very good, is my great disappointment. I don’t like good people.” “What experience have you had with bad?” he asked cuttingly. “As usual, you are just talking words. You are a regular sea lawyer.” “Do get dressed, Sumatra,” Annice said. “Something light and feminine,” Epes added; “with wreaths of flowers for you to put your feet through.” He couldn’t understand why, whenever he talked to Sumatra, he became so vindictive. He had no particular desire to be nasty; it came up in spite of him. “Perhaps no one will ask me to dance.” “If they do,” he advised her, “and it is near supper, don’t let go or you’ll get no oysters.” “Sumatra, get dressed,” Annice commanded. “Maybe I won’t at all.” “Do you mean you’ll go like you are?” “It wouldn’t kill anyone, would it? I shouldn’t come home and cry if I didn’t get an armful of favors; I can get along, for a few minutes anyhow, by myself.” This, Epes thought, promised to be amusing. Peppery Sumatra! Annice glanced at him hastily.