Louisa said nothing, but her eyes welcomed him, and she drew him near her, on to the sofa in front of the fire, and allowed her hand to rest in his, for she knew how he loved the touch of it. People were beginning to say that Louisa Harris was getting old: she never had been good-looking, poor thing, but always smart, very smart--now she was losing her smartness, and what remained? She had come up to town this autumn in last autumn's frocks! and the twins were after all being chaperoned by their aunt. Would that absurd engagement never be broken off? Fancy Louisa Harris married to a poor man! Why, she did not know how to do her hair, and dresses were still worn fastened at the back, and would be for years to come! Louisa Harris and no French maid! Cheap corsets and cleaned gloves! It was unthinkable. Perhaps the engagement was virtually broken off--anyhow the wedding could never take place. Unless Philip de Mountford happened to die. But it did not look as if the engagement was broken off. Not at any rate on this raw November evening, when there was a dense fog outside, but a bright, cheery fire and plenty of light in the little sitting room at the Langham, and Luke sat on the sofa beside Louisa, and plain Louisa--in last autumn's gown--looking at him with her candid, luminous eyes. "How is Lord Radclyffe?" asked Colonel Harris. "Badly," replied Luke, "I am afraid. He looks very feeble, and his asthma I know must bother him. He was always worse in foggy weather." "He ought to go to Algeciras. He always used to." "I know," assented Luke dejectedly. "Can't something be done? Surely, Luke, you haven't lost all your influence with him." "Every bit, sir. Why, I hardly ever see him." "Hardly ever see him?" ejaculated Colonel Harris, and I am afraid that he swore. "I haven't been to Grosvenor Square for over six weeks. I am only allowed to see him when Philip is out, or by special permission from Philip. I won't go under such conditions." "How that house must have altered!" "You wouldn't know it, sir: All the old servants have gone, one after the other; they had rows with Philip and left at a month's notice. I suppose he has no idea how to set about getting new ones--I know I shouldn't! There's only a man and his wife, a sort of charwoman who cleans and cooks, and the man is supposed to look after Uncle Rad; but he doesn't do it, for he is half seas over most of the time." "Good God!" murmured Colonel Harris. "They have shut up all the rooms, except the library where Uncle Rad and Philip have their meals when they are at home. But they lunch and dine at their club mostly." "What club do they go to? I called in at the Atheneum last night, thinking to find Radclyffe there, but the hall porter told me that he never went there now." "No. He and Philip have joined some new club in Shaftesbury Avenue--The Veterans' I think it is called." "Some low, mixed-up kind of place! Old Radclyffe must be out of his senses!"