When his solitary meal was over he lighted a cigar, and went for a stroll in the starlit garden; first, however, paying a visit to Leo in the backyard--who recognised him by his footsteps even before he spoke, and barked a boisterous welcome--and freeing him from his chain. All Phil's thoughts this evening were happy ones. More than once he took a certain letter from his pocket and pressed it fervently to his lips; more than once in his abstraction his cigar was unwittingly allowed to go out. It was abundantly evident that he was in very bad case indeed. At half-past nine he set out for the station, taking Leo with him. He had debated with himself whether he should take the pony-chaise, but finally decided against doing so. His mother would probably prefer to engage a fly at the station rather than have Doxie put into harness at that late hour. He took the road to the railway mechanically, swinging his cane as he went. He was hundreds of miles away in fancy. Once more he was pacing the deck of the _Parthenia_ with Fanny by his side. Mother and son kissed each other with effusion at the moment of meeting. Then Mrs. Winslade drew back a step and took a long look at Phil by the light of the station lamps. "You know, dear, it's two months--two whole months--since I saw you last," she said, as if by way of apology for her scrutiny. "A long time to me; but I don't see that you are a bit changed." Phil laughed. "The only change, _madre mia_, is that I know a good deal more of the world than I did eight weeks ago." "A sort of knowledge, my dear, that is of little or no value unless you have learnt how to put it to a good use. Of course I know already from your letters that you were thoroughly successful in the mission which took you to the States." "Most successful. But I will tell you all particulars later on." For the mother of a son who numbered eight-and-twenty summers Mrs. Winslade might be called a young-looking woman. Her figure was tall, and had not yet lost the fine proportions for which it had been noticeable in years gone by. Both hair and eyes were dark, the latter large and shining usually with a soft clear lustre which most people found singularly attractive. She had a rather long, straight nose, a mouth indicative of firmness and self-possession, and a well-rounded chin. All her movements, if touched with a certain stateliness, were easy and gracious, and if she was not in the habit of smiling very often, when her face did light up the smile brought out a hidden sweetness of which one had only been vaguely conscious before. Phil engaged a fly, and presently they were being driven leisurely homeward, Leo trotting contentedly behind. "Although it is so many years since Martha Dobson left my service, I hope, Phil, that you have not forgotten her," said Mrs. Winslade presently.