"No, no, no! Wait," pressing an electric button; "Watson, Captain Selwyn's luggage is to be brought here immediately from the Holland! Immediately!" And to Selwyn: "Austin will not be at home before half-past six. Come up with me now and see your quarters--a perfectly charming place for you, with your own smoking-room and dressing-closet and bath. Wait, we'll take the elevator--as long as we have one." Smilingly protesting, yet touched by the undisguised sincerity of his welcome, he suffered himself to be led into the elevator--a dainty white and rose rococo affair. His sister adjusted a tiny lever; the car moved smoothly upward and, presently stopped; and they emerged upon a wide landing. "Here," said Nina, throwing open a door. "Isn't this comfortable? Is there anything you don't fancy about it? If there is, tell me frankly." "Little sister," he said, imprisoning both her hands, "it is a paradise--but I don't intend to come here and squat on my relatives, and I won't!" "Philip! You are common!" "Oh, I know you and Austin _think_ you want me." "Phil!" "All right, dear. I'll--it's awfully generous of you--so I'll pay you a visit--for a little while." "You'll live here, that's what you'll do--though I suppose you are dreaming and scheming to have all sorts of secret caves and queer places to yourself--horrid, grimy, smoky bachelor quarters where you can behave _sans-facon_." "I've had enough of _sans-facon_" he said grimly. "After shacks and bungalows and gun-boats and troopships, do you suppose this doesn't look rather heavenly?" "Dear fellow!" she said, looking tenderly at him; and then under her breath: "What a ghastly life you have led!" But he knew she did not refer to the military portion of his life. He threw back his coat, dug both hands into his pockets, and began to wander about the rooms, halting sometimes to examine nondescript articles of ornament or bits of furniture as though politely interested. But she knew his thoughts were steadily elsewhere. [Illustration: "'There is no reason,' she said, 'why you should not call this house home.'"] Sauntering about, aware at moments that her troubled eyes were following him, he came back, presently, to where she sat perched upon his bed. "It all looks most inviting, Nina," he said cheerfully, seating himself beside her. "I--well, you can scarcely be expected to understand how this idea of a home takes hold of a man who has none." "Yes, I do," she said. "All this--" he paused, leisurely, to select his words--"all this--you--the children--that jolly nursery--" he stopped again, looking out of the window; and his sister looked at him through eyes grown misty. "There is no reason," she said, "why you should not call this house home." "N-no reason. Thank you. I will--for a few days." "_No_ reason, dear," she insisted. "We are your own people; we are all you have, Phil!--the children adore you already; Austin--you know what he thinks of you; and--and I--"