He had caught the note of dismissal in her voice, and was trying to gather up the scattered fragments of his self-possession. “Of course, at our age ... _my_ age, I mean ... all that kind of thing is rather.... But there: I didn’t want you to feel there was no one you could turn to. That’s all. You won’t bear me a grudge, though? Now then; that’s all right. And you’ll see: this other business will shake down in time. Bound to, you know. I daresay the young man has merits that you and I don’t see. And you’ll let me go on dropping in as usual? After all, I’m Anne’s guardian!” he ended with his clumsy laugh. “I shall want you more than ever, Fred,” Mrs. Clephane said simply. * * * * * The next evening, as she looked down the long dinner-table from her seat at its head, she was fantastically reminded of the first family dinner over which she had presided after her marriage. The background was the same; the faces were the same, or so like that they seemed merely rejuvenated issues of the same coinage. Hendrik Drover sat in his brother-in-law’s place; but even that change was not marked enough to disturb the illusion. Hendrik Drover’s heavy good-natured face belonged to the same type as John Clephane’s; one saw that the two had gone to the same schools and the same University, frequented the same clubs, fished the same salmon rivers; Hendrik Drover might have been the ghost of John Clephane revisiting the scene of his earthly trials in a mood softened by celestial influences. And as for herself--Kate Clephane--if she had conformed to the plan of life prepared for her, instead of turning from it and denying it, might she not reasonably have hoped to reappear on the scene in the form of Enid Drover? These grotesque fancies had begun to weave their spirals through her brain only after a first impact had emptied it of everything else, swept it suddenly clear of all meaning and all reason. That moment had come when Chris Fenno had entered in the wake of the other guests; when she had heard his name announced like that of any other member of the family; had seen him advance across the interminable length of the room, all the lights in it converging upon him as she felt that all the eyes in it converged on her; when she had seen Anne at his side, felt her presence between them, heard the girl’s voice, imperious, beseeching: “Mother--here’s Chris,” and felt her hand drop into that other hand with the awful plunge that the heart makes when a sudden shock flings it from its seat.