"Please, Marion! Spare my blushes. I am perfectly well, and my greatest pleasure is looking after the boy." Francis Manning spoke with quiet self-possession, nevertheless his hearers divined a hidden wound, and unanimously forbore from comment, but those who had known the man fifteen years before, marvelled at the change which had come over his whole personality. It was more than a change; it was a transfiguration. What trumpet-call had sounded in this man's ears to rouse him from his sleep? Mrs Ingram looked around and met the glance of John Malham, millionaire, leaning back in his chair with his head supported on his hand. Of all the men in the room he looked the most worn and exhausted, and she wondered if perchance at this very moment his tired brain was evolving another Titan scheme by which fresh coffers could be added to his store. Her smile had more of pity than envy as she addressed him: "Mr Malham, it is unnecessary to ask your report! All the world knows how you have succeeded. It only remains for your old friends to congratulate you, and wish you a continuance of your success." "Thanks very much, Mrs Ingram. It is a great pleasure to be here, and to meet you all again. I only wish I could have managed to make a longer stay." Malham was obviously ill at ease, obviously annoyed when his wife took up the strain, and in her flat voice proceeded to enlarge on her husband's marvellous powers. With the obvious intention of avoiding the ordeal he bent forward towards Juliet, and pointing to a miniature which hung from her neck, said in a low voice, "Is that one of the six? The little girl? May I see?" Juliet beamed broadly as she held out the pearl-rimmed case containing a pretty round young face. "And you? How many have you?" "None," he said shortly, and Juliet hurried to retrieve her mistake. "Yes. That's the girl. A great pet, of course. I called her Celia. Her father thought it too fanciful, but he had had his own way about the boys, so I insisted on it. It's such a pretty name, so sweet and winsome--don't you think so? And uncommon. One meets so many Gladyses and Phyllises, but so seldom a Celia. Did you ever know a Celia?" She looked at him, and the motherly smile faded at sight of his tortured face. "Yes. I knew a Celia," he said thickly, and Juliet looked hurriedly in another direction, her heart leaping to a swift conclusion. "He loved a girl called Celia, and she died, and he married Lady Anne for her position. All his success has not brought him happiness. Oh, the poor, _poor_ man!" Meantime Lady Anne's voice had trailed into silence, and Rupert Dempster was answering Mrs Ingram's unspoken summons. Like Manning he had but little to say, but there was all the difference in the world in his manner of saying it.