But Roland had ceased to listen. It was very pleasant here, he told himself. There was a freedom about it that the English country-house, however charming, lacked. There was no one to suggest things for you to do, there was no host or hostess to exact attention, and the women were prettier, better dressed, less conventional, and yet more assured in manner than any that he had encountered for years. The men, too, were a good lot; and given one or two more little surprises, such as he had found in the card-room, he felt willing to linger on indefinitely--a week at least, a month if the fare held out. His eyes roamed through the glitter of the room. Presently, at a neighboring table, he noticed the girl with whom he had seen the old year depart: she was nodding to him; and Roland, with that courtesy that betokens the foreigner a mile away, rose from his seat as he bowed in return. Jones, whom little escaped, glanced over his shoulder. "By the way, are you on this side for good?" he asked; and Roland answering with the vague shrug the undetermined give, he hastened to add--"or for bad?" "That depends. I ran over to settle my father's estate, but they seem to have settled it for me. After all, this is no place for a pauper, is it?" "The wolf's at the door, is he?" Roland laughed shortly. "At the door? Good Lord! I wish he were! He's in the room." "There, dear boy, never mind. Wait till spring comes and marry an heiress. There are so many hereabouts that we use them for export purposes. They are a glut in the market. There's a fair specimen. Ever meet her before?" "Meet whom?" "That girl you just bowed to. They call her father Honest Paul. Oh, if you ask me why, I can't tell. It's a nick-name, like another. It may be because he says Amen so loud in church. A number of people have made him trustee, but whether on that account or not they never told. However, he's a big man, owns a mile or two up there near the Riverside. I should rate him at not a penny less than ten million." "What did you say his name was?" "Dunellen--the Hon. Paul Dunellen. At one time--" Jones rambled on, and again Roland had ceased to listen. But it was not the present now that claimed him. At the mention of the plutocrat something from the past came back and called him there--a thing so shadowy that, when he turned to interrogate, it eluded him and disappeared. Then at once, without conscious effort, an episode which he had long since put from him arose and detained his thought. But what on earth, he wondered, had the name of Dunellen to do with that? And for the moment dumbly perplexed, yet outwardly attentive, he puzzled over the connection and tried to find the link; yet that too was elusive: the name seemed to lose its suggestiveness, and presently it sank behind the episode it had evoked.