A bright flame leaped up in the fire and showed all three faces to one another--Mary's face, with its quietly absorbed expression of attentive interest--Reay's strongly moulded features, just now somewhat sternly shadowed by bitter memories--and Helmsley's thin, worn, delicately intellectual countenance, which in the brilliant rosy light flung upon it by the fire-glow, was like a fine waxen mask, impenetrable in its unmoved austerity and calm. Not so much as the faintest flicker of emotion crossed it at the mention of the name of the woman he knew so well,--the surprise he felt inwardly was not apparent outwardly, and he heard the remainder of Reay's narration with the most perfectly controlled imperturbability of demeanour. "She told me then," proceeded Reay--"that her parents had spent nearly all they had upon her education, in order to fit her for a position as the wife of a rich man--and that she would have to do her best to 'catch'--that's the way she put it--to 'catch' this rich man as soon as she got a good opportunity. He was quite an old man, she said--old enough to be her grandfather. And when I asked her how she could reconcile it to her conscience to marry such a hoary-headed rascal----" Here Helmsley interrupted him. "Was he a hoary-headed rascal?" "He must have been," replied Angus, warmly--"Don't you see he must?" Helmsley smiled. "Well--not exactly!" he submitted, with a gentle air of deference--"I think--perhaps--he might deserve a little pity for having to be 'caught' as you say just for his money's sake." "Not a bit of it!" declared Reay--"Any old man who would marry a young girl like that condemns himself as a villain. An out-an-out, golden-dusted villain!" "But _has_ he married her?" asked Mary. Angus was rather taken aback at this question,--and rubbed his forehead perplexedly. "Well, no, he hasn't--not yet--not that I know of, and I've watched the papers carefully too. Such a marriage couldn't take place without columns and columns of twaddle about it--all the dressmakers who made gowns for the bride would want a mention--and if they paid for it of course they'd get it. No--it hasn't come off yet--but it will. The venerable bridegroom that is to be has just gone abroad somewhere--so I see by one of the 'Society' rags,--probably to the States to make some more 'deals' in cash before his wedding." "You know his name, then?" "Oh yes! Everybody knows it, and knows him too! David Helmsley's too rich to hide his light under a bushel! They call him 'King David' in the city. Now your name's David--but, by Jove, what a difference in Davids!" And he laughed, adding quickly--"I prefer the David I see before me now, to the David I never saw!" "Oh! You never saw the old rascal then?" murmured Helmsley, putting up one hand to stroke his moustache slowly down over the smile which he could not repress.