Lights burned in his house, one in Shiela's apartments, several in the west wing where the Tressilvains were housed. A servant, locking up for the night, came across the dripping veranda to admit him; and he went upstairs and knocked at his wife's door. Shiela's maid opened, hesitated; and a moment later Shiela appeared, fully dressed, a book in her hand. It was one of Hamil's architectural volumes. "Well, Shiela," he said lightly; "I got in to-night and rather expected to see somebody; but nobody waited up to see me! I'm rather wet--it's raining--so I won't trouble you. I only wanted to say good night." The quick displeasure in her face died out. She dismissed the maid, and came slowly forward. Beneath the light her face looked much thinner; he noticed dark shadows under the eyes; the eyes themselves seemed tired and expressionless. "Aren't you well?" he asked bluntly. "Perfectly.... Was it you the dogs were so noisy about just now?" "Yes; it seems that even my own dogs resent my return. Well--good night. I'm glad you're all right." Something in his voice, more than in the words, arrested her listless attention. "Will you come in, Louis?" "I'm afraid I'm keeping you awake. Besides I'm wet--" "Come in and tell me where you've been--if you care to. Would you like some tea--or something?" He shook his head, but followed her into the small receiving-room. There he declined an offered chair. "I've been in New York.... No, I did not see your family.... As for what I've been doing--" Her lifted eyes betrayed no curiosity; a growing sense of depression crept over him. "Oh, well," he said, "it doesn't matter." And turned toward the door. She looked into the empty fireplace with a sigh; then, gently, "I don't mean to make it any drearier for you than I can help." He considered her a moment. "Are you really well, Shiela?" "Why, yes; only a little tired. I do not sleep well." He nodded toward the west wing of the house. "Do _they_ bother you?" She did not answer. He said: "Thank you for putting them up. We'll get rid of them if they annoy you." "They are quite welcome." "That's very decent of you, Shiela. I dare say you have not found them congenial." "We have nothing in common. I think they consider me a fool." "Why?" He looked up, keenly humourous. "Because I don't understand their inquiries. Besides, I don't gamble--" "What kind of inquiries do they make?" "Personal ones," she said quietly. He laughed. "They're probably more offensively impertinent than the Chinese--that sort of Briton. I think I'll step into the west wing and greet my relations. I won't impose them on you for very long. Do you know when they are going?" "I think they have made plans to remain here for a while." "Really?" he sneered. "Well, leave that to me, Shiela."