Cardross said: "I'm glad you're young; I'm glad you've come. This is going to be the pleasantest winter of my life. There isn't anything I'd rather do than just this kind of thing--if you'll let me tag after you and talk about it. You don't mind, do you?" "No, I don't," said Hamil sincerely. "We'll probably have rows," suggested Cardross; "I may want vistas and terraces and fountains where they ought not to be." "Oh, no, you won't," replied Hamil, laughing; "you'll understand things when I give reasons." "That's what I want--reasons. If anybody would only give me reasons!--but nobody does. Listen; will you come up to the house with me and meet my family? And then you'll lunch with them--I've a business luncheon at the club--unfortunately--but I'll come back. Meanwhile there'll be somebody to show you about, or you can run out to the Inlet in one of the motor-boats if you like, or do anything you like that may amuse you; the main thing is for you to be amused, to find this place agreeable, to like this kind of country, to like us. _Then_ you can do good work, Mr. Hamil." A grinning negro shuffled up and closed the gate as they left the grove together and started across the lawn. Cardross, cordial in his quick, vigorous manner, strolled with his hands in his coat pockets, planting each white-shod foot firmly as he walked, frequently turning head and shoulders squarely toward his companion when speaking. He must have been over fifty; he did not appear forty; still, on closer and more detailed inspection Hamil understood how much his alert, well-made figure had to do with the first impression of youth. Yet his expression had nothing in it of that shadow which falls with years--nothing to show to the world that he had once taken the world by the throat and wrung a fortune out of it--nothing of the hard gravity or the underlying sadness of almost ruthless success, and the responsibility for it. Yet, from the first, Hamil had been aware of all that was behind this unstudied frankness, this friendly vigour. There was a man, there--every inch a man, but exactly of what sort the younger man had not yet decided. * * * * * A faded and very stout lady, gowned with elaborate simplicity, yet somehow suggesting well-bred untidiness, rolled toward them, propelled in a wheeled-chair by a black servant. "Dear," said Mr. Cardross, "this is Mr. Hamil." And Mrs. Cardross offered him her chubby hand and said a little more than he expected. Then, to her husband, languidly: "They're playing tennis, Neville. If Mr. Hamil would care to play there are tennis-shoes belonging to Gray and Acton." "Thank you, Mrs. Cardross," said Hamil, "but, as a matter of fact, I am not yet acclimated."