“It’s so difficult to tell, at night,” the subtle Wiggie made innocent reply, all the time knowing the note of it as well as the sound of his own voice. But what he did not know was that, inside it, was Dandy, come to fetch him in an idle moment. That disappointment had yet to be revealed. Thus is the spilt wine of our good deeds made bitter as waters of Marah. * * * * * Lup walked over to drive the old man home. Lancaster had a word with him on the kerb. “You might have given us a look-in, for the last time! When next January comes round, you’ll be feeling sorry you didn’t. When do you leave?” “In another few weeks, sir. I’ll be stopping a while with an uncle in Liverpool before sailing. I’d meant to go, if I’d had to work my passage, but the old man’s seen to the brass. There’ll be plenty to start me on the other side an’ all. When he’d once given in, he wasn’t for stinting me. He’s hard, but he’s not unjust, and he knows I’ve earned it all right.” “It’s _you_ that’s hard, Lup--ay, and unjust, too! You haven’t earned the right to spoil your father’s last days.” “He’s had his life, sir. This is mine.” “And much good may it do you! You’re a fool!” Lanty swung on his heel to find the Watters chauffeur at his elbow, wearing such a shocked expression that both the other men smiled. Lup said, “Like enough! Good-night to you, sir!” and rattled off, and Lancaster drifted to the car. Dandy put out a hand to him through the window. “Whom were you slanging on the pavement? And do you know what has happened to Wiggie? They have it inside that he’s gone home already.” It was explained that he had driven off with Mr. and Miss Knewstubb, and she lifted her eyebrows a little. She was so used to Wiggie’s devotion that the wind blew cold at the slightest sign of defection. “It’s quite all right, of course, but we’d promised to send over. I had nothing particular to do, so I just came for the run. I hope he won’t get cold after the hot room--I brought the closed car on purpose--especially as he came to please me.” “He pleased a good many other people, too,” Lanty said warmly. “He was immense! I can’t think why he isn’t in the front rank of English singers. Surely somebody ought to have found him out!” “Oh, he’s getting on all right,” she answered, rather hurriedly. “I’m sure he enjoyed singing for you.” “Well, yes, I think he did. He was great, anyhow! I’m glad you thought of sending him as your representative.” “I was interested.” She looked down, so that her head with its halo of yellow light was thrown into relief by the night and her dark furs. There were yellow chrysanthemums opposite. He laughed with a shade of incredulity.