Sir Maurice received me very kindly. I had thought, seeing him at the card-table, that he was a tall man; but he was small, slight, taut; very ready to smile. He offered me a cigar, which I was very pleased to take. Iris said she would not smoke just yet. No one sat down, but every one seemed at his ease. It was as though Iris and I were paying an evening call. Hilary apologised to me about dinner. I forgave him. Somehow, suddenly, I found myself absorbed by Guy and Hilary. I found that Iris was alone. It was as though her green hat stamped her aloneness with a light. How bright that green hat looked in that scholarly room, like a green flower, like a green flame! Iris stood by the card-table, on which the cards were scattered face-upwards. “Good of you to come, Iris,” the General said. He smiled very easily. He was one of those young old men who are very old when you look close. He was charming. Iris looked up from the cards across the room to Hilary. Her eyes were untroubled and clear, she was very still, and her lips were silken red. She said: “Hilary asked me. So I came.” “It was my idea, Iris,” Sir Maurice said, and he smiled. He was fidgeting with a black ebony paper-knife. “My idea entirely. Hilary was against it. Very glad you brought our young friend. Sit down, Iris. We are all of the world here, we are civilised people. Let’s talk about this like civilised people.” Iris did not sit down. Maybe some one sat down, but I don’t remember. Iris picked up the ace of clubs from the table and looked at it thoughtfully. “That was really why I came, Maurice. Because it must have been your idea. You are a very clever man. It was thoughtful of you to give me a chance of saying good-bye to Truble.” She looked up from the ace of clubs to Guy with her untroubled eyes. She had not once looked at Sir Maurice. “Guy, what have you to say to me? I think you have wanted to say something to me for a long time. It would have been cowardly to leave England for good without giving you the chance.” “Iris,” said Hilary sharply, “Guy has always been very kind about you. Hm. Much kinder than I’ve been.” “Yes, dear,” she smiled so suddenly at Hilary. That was a surprising, complete smile. It excluded us all, it excluded even Iris and Hilary, it excluded every one but the friend of childhood and a long little thing, all brown stockings and blue eyes. That was a true smile. “Hm,” said Hilary. Sir Maurice put a whisky-and-soda into my hand, but I do not remember tasting it. The slight, poised old gentleman’s smile troubled me. His was too fine a face to smile like that. He had clever, darting eyes. I felt that Iris was making an effort to keep her eyes from him. And I felt that the two enemies were each terrified of the other.