“Thank you,” said Mrs. Severance, copying Mr. Piper finished his drink and rose. “And now, I do not wish you to misunderstand me,” he said. “I have not come to my age without realizing that there are certain services that cannot be paid for. But you have done me a very great service, Oliver--a service for which I should have been glad to give nearly everything material that I possess. I merely wish you to know that in case you should ever need--assistance--from an older man---in any way--that is clumsily put, but I can think of no other suitable word at the moment--I am entirely at your disposal. Entirely so.” “Thank you, sir,” said Oliver a little stiffly. Mr. Piper was certainly heaping coals of fire. Then he wondered for an instant just what Mrs. Ellicott would think if she could have heard the President of the Commercial say that to him-- Mr. Piper was moving slowly toward the door, and the politeness that had been his at the beginning of the conversation was nothing to his supreme politeness now. “And now,” he said, as if he were asking everybody's pardon for an entirely unintentional intrusion, “I really must be getting back to Southampton--and you and Rose I imagine have still quite a bit to talk over--” “But--” said Oliver clumsily, “but Mr. Piper--” and “Must you really, dear?” said Mrs. Severance in the softest tones of conventional wifely reproach. Her manner was ideal but Oliver somehow and suddenly felt all the admiration he had ever had for her calm power blow away from him like smoke. He could not help extremest appreciation of her utter poise--he never would be able to, he supposed--but from now on it would be the somewhat shivery appreciation that anyone with sensitive nerves might give to the smooth mechanical efficiency of a perfectly-appointed electric-chair. “No,” said Mr. Piper perfectly, “I insist. You certainly could not have finished your discussion before I came and for the present--well--it seems to me that I have intruded quite long enough. I wish it,” he added and Oliver understood. “You are staying with us, over tomorrow, Oliver, are you not?” said Mr. Piper calmly, and Oliver assented. “I suppose we shall see each other at breakfast then?” “Oh yes, sir.” And then Oliver tried to rise to Mr. Piper's magnificence of conventionality in remark. “By the way, sir, I'm driving back in Peter's car--as soon as Mrs. Severance and I have finished our talk--I couldn't pick you up anywhere, sir, could I?” Mr. Piper smiled, consulting his watch. “There is an excellent train at 10.33--an excellent one--” he said, and again Oliver was dumfounded to realize that the whole march of events in the apartment had taken scarcely two hours. “Thank you, Oliver, but I think I had better take that. Not that I distrust your driving in the least, but it will be fairly slow going, I imagine, over some of those roads at night--and this was one evening on which I had really intended to get a good night's sleep.”