"I see you are interested in Barbara Farnham," she began. "I am not the least surprised--you but follow the example of all the other men who know her." "Miss Farnham is a very beautiful girl." I replied. Miss Derrick gave a short sigh. "Yes," she replied, "Barbara has a beautiful face. She is a fine creature too, although of course terribly spoilt." "Have you known her long?" I asked. "Yes; since she was a child. Of course you must notice, Dr. Halifax, the state of matters. Barbara's conduct is more or less the talk of the whole house. I presume from his manner that poor Mr. Carleton's chances of success are quite over, and for my part I am sorry. He is not rich, but he is a good fellow--he is devotedly attached to Barbara, and his abilities are quite above the average. Yes, I am sorry for Mr. Carleton. Barbara might have done worse than return his affection." I did not feel inclined to pursue the subject any further with this somewhat garrulous lady. After a pause, I remarked:-- "Miss Farnham looks tired, and does not seem in her usual spirits." Miss Derrick shrugged her thin shoulders. "What else can you expect?" she answered. "Barbara is a creature of moods. She was quite _exaltée_ all the morning; now she will be correspondingly dull, until a fresh wave of excitement raises her spirits." At this moment the signal for the ladies to withdraw was given. After their departure, Carleton and Randall found themselves sitting close together. I noticed that neither man spoke to the other, and also observed that after a time Carleton deliberately changed his seat for one at a distant part of the table. [Illustration: "CARLETON DELIBERATELY CHANGED HIS SEAT."] We did not sit long over wine, and when we came into the drawing-room a lady was playing some classical music with precision and sufficient brilliancy to attract several musical men to the vicinity of the piano. Her place was quickly taken by the droll man of the party, who entertained the company with comic songs. The evening dragged on in the usual manner. For some unaccountable reason no one seemed quite in good spirits. As for me, I found myself constantly looking in the direction of the door. I heartily wished that either Carleton or Randall would come in--I acknowledged to myself that the presence of one at least of these gentlemen in the room would give me relief. An hour and more passed away, however, and neither of them appeared. I glanced towards Miss Farnham. She was standing near the piano, idly playing with a large feather fan. I thought I read both solicitude and expectation in her eyes. The funny man was trolling out a sea-song to which a lively chorus was attached. Brabazon came up and touched my arm. "When that is over," he said, in a low voice, "I will ask Barbara Farnham to sing." "Can she sing?" I asked.