"No, that was Val Lessing. Val is quite a prosperous City man now. He sends me a Christmas card every year. Francis Manning was the big, lazy creature who couldn't think of anything he wanted so much as to be let alone, to jog along in comfort. I have heard nothing of him since he wrote years ago to tell me of his marriage. I sent him a present." "I'll bet you did!" commented her husband, laughing. "Oh, well, we can easily track Mr Manning. Then there comes Juliet! There's no difficulty about Juliet. Let me see! What was it that Juliet wished for?" "Adventure!" Mrs Ingram said, and they both smiled. "So Juliet wished for adventure, did she? Well! Well!" cried Mr Ingram nodding. "_How_ many inches should you say she measures round the waist at the present moment?" But at this his wife protested strongly. "Too bad! Too bad! Why should the mere fact of being stout make it seem ridiculous for a woman to have a share in romance or excitement? I'm not going to allow you to laugh at Juliet. Wait at least until you have heard what she has to say. Now we come to the last on the list-- Rupert Dempster, Rupert who wished for love." "I remember," said her husband shortly. Many things that had happened on that evening had faded from memory, but the shock occasioned by Rupert's unexpected confession had impressed it on his mind. In imagination he could see the firelight playing upon the tired face, and hear the strong, quiet tone speaking of his ideal love, the primal, overmastering affinity of mind for mind, soul for soul, body for body. And it was this Rupert Dempster who had married a woman admittedly insane! Rumour said that she had to a great extent regained her reason, but still... Mr Ingram registered a hope that Dempster and his wife would not accept his wife's invitation for New Year's Eve! It was New Year's Eve, and throughout the afternoon one batch of visitors after another drove up to the door of the Manor. Some had travelled by train, some by motor, and each guest in turn was received by the hostess, welcomed with her inimitable charm, and escorted to the rooms apportioned to them, where tea was served instead of in the hall downstairs, as was the usual custom in the household. It did not satisfy Mrs Ingram's dramatic sense that her guests should meet one by one; she preferred to postpone the moment until they met _en masse_ round the dinner table later on. Six invitations had been sent out, and in due time six replies came back. Some were affectionate in tone, others politely formal, some implied a willingness to stay as long as they should be asked; others regretted that one day only could be spared; but so far as the anniversary itself was concerned, each of the six notes brought the acceptance which Mrs Ingram had so confidently expected. By six o'clock that evening six of the surviving members of the original party were once more gathered together beneath the roof of the Manor.