To one and all of them Shirley Rives seemed equally pleasant and equally fascinating. Instead of relieving Lawrence, as this should have done, it simply aggravated him the more; and presently, unable longer to contain himself, he left his corner, and made his way straight to the retirement of the smoking room. He had scarcely entered it, and was taking out his cigarette case, when a tall, smooth-shaven fellow, very ruddy and very blond, sprang from a chair in which he had been lounging, and, rushing forward, gripped Barry’s hand. "By Jove, Oscar, old chap!" he exclaimed heartily. "Why, this is ripping, don’t you know! To think of seeing you in this bally place!" Lawrence frowned, and withdrew his hand as soon as the other’s fingers relaxed their pressure. He was in no mood for talking to strangers, even if they did labor under an innocent case of mistaken identity. "I think you must have made a mistake," he returned coldly. "I don’t remember ever having seen you before." The Englishman’s face took on an expression of incredulous astonishment, and he fumbled for the monocle depending from his neck by a broad black ribbon. "But, I say!" he objected, in a plaintive tone. He had screwed the glass into his left eye, and was regarding Barry inquiringly. "You don’t mean you’ve really forgotten the ripping times we had at Cambridge? You’re just chaffing, old chap! You couldn’t forget the bloomin’ rackets we used to pull off in your rooms—eh, what?" "I really have," Barry retorted shortly. "You are evidently taking me for some one else." The other’s jaw dropped, but the monocle remained firmly in its place. "Fancy, now!" he gasped helplessly. "Extraordinary lapse of memory!" He shrugged his shoulders, and went on, with heavy sarcasm: "I dare say, then, you don’t even remember Cambridge?" "I remember Cambridge perfectly," Lawrence retorted sharply, goaded beyond endurance; "but I have no recollection of you whatever." Turning on his heel, he flung away his unlighted cigarette, and left the room without giving the other a chance to speak. *CHAPTER XIX.* *PROTECTIVE MEASURES.* "Fool!" muttered Lawrence, as he passed down the corridor toward the ballroom. "If that was meant as a joke, it was a poor one." Reaching one of the entrances to the ballroom, he hesitated. He had not the faintest desire to return and take part in that scene of festivity. He was tired of being pestered and having to talk and make himself agreeable. He wanted to get away and be let alone, so very swiftly he resolved to hunt up Mrs. Hamersley, and take his leave as gracefully as he could. He found the lady after some trouble, told her that he was not feeling very fit—which was quite true—and said good night. Securing his things in the coat room, he made haste to take the elevator downstairs.