friend off and to repeat his orders concerning the immediate delivery of
his suit-case when it should arrive. Henshaw was in the hall, bulking big
in a fur coat and complaining in a masterful tone of the unpunctuality of
his fly. A handsome fellow, Gifford was constrained to acknowledge, and
of a strong, positive character; the type of man, he thought, who could
be very fascinating to women--and very brutal.

He dropped his rather bullying manner as he caught sight of the two
friends; and, noticing Gifford's morning clothes, made a casually
sympathetic remark on his bad luck.

"Oh, I shall come on when my things arrive, which ought to be soon,"
Gifford responded coldly, disliking the man and his rather obvious
insincerity.

"We might have driven over together," Henshaw said, addressing
Kelson. "But I hardly cared to propose it after the line you took at
the station."

There was an unpleasant curl of the lip as he spoke the words almost
vindictively, as though with intent to put Kelson in the wrong.

But his sneer had no effect on the ex-Cavalryman.

"I am driving over in my own trap," he replied coolly, ignoring the
other's intent. "You will be a good deal more comfortable in a closed
carriage."

"Decidedly," Henshaw returned with a laugh. "I am not so fond of an east
wind as to get more of it than can be helped. And, after all, it is best