“How d'you do, sir?” he responded, with a smile. “I congratulate you on looking so--so uncommon well. I was just telling Mrs. Chilcote that I hold a commission for Lady Astrupp to-night. I'm a sort of scout at present--reporting on the outposts.” He spoke fast and without much meaning, but his boyish voice eased the strain. Eve thanked him with a smile. “Then we mustn't interfere with a person on active service,” she said. “Besides, we have our own duties to get through.” She smiled again, and, touching Loder's arm, indicated the reception-rooms. When they entered the larger of the two rooms Lady Bramfell was still receiving her guests. She was a tall and angular woman, who, except for a certain beauty of hands and feet and a certain similarity of voice, possessed nothing in common with her sister Lillian. She was speaking to a group of people as they approached, and the first sound of her sweet and rather drawling tones touched Loder with a curious momentary feeling--a vague suggestion of awakened memories. Then the suggestion vanished as she turned and greeted Eve. “How sweet of you to come!” she murmured. And it seemed to Loder that a more spontaneous smile lighted up her face. Then she extended her hand to him. “And you, too!” she added. “Though I fear we shall bore you dreadfully.” Watching her with interest, he saw the change of expression as her eyes turned from Eve to him, and noticed a colder tone in her voice as she addressed him directly. The observation moved him to self-assertion. “That's a poor compliment to me,” he said “To be bored is surely only a polite way of being inane.” Lady Bramfell smiled. “What!” she exclaimed. “You defending your social reputation?” Loder laughed a little. “The smaller it is, the more defending it needs,” he replied. Another stream of arrivals swept by them as he spoke; Eve smiled at their hostess and moved across the room, and he perforce followed. As he gained her side, the little court about Lady Bramfell was left well in the rear, the great throng at the farther end of the room was not yet reached, and for the moment they were practically alone. There was a certain uneasiness in that moment of companionship. It seemed to him that Eve wished to speak, but hesitated. Once or twice she opened and closed the fan that she was carrying, then at last, as if by an effort, she turned and looked at him. “Why were you so cold to Bobby Blessington?” she asked. “Doesn't it seem discourteous to ignore him as you did?”