Mary, you have not given me his city directory name!"

"Mr.--" and Mary blushed. She could only pass the, blame back to the
Eternal Painter's oversight in their introduction.

"Jack Wingfield!" said Jack, on his own account.

"Jack Wingfield!" repeated Jasper Ewold, tasting the name.

A flicker of surprise followed by a flicker of drawn intensity ran over
his features, and he studied Jack in a long glance, which he masked just
in time to save it from being a stare. Jack was conscious of the
scrutiny. He flushed slightly and waited for some word to explain it;
but none came. Jasper Ewold's Olympian geniality returned in a
spontaneous flood.

"Come inside, Jack Wingfield," he said. "Come inside, Sir Chaps--for that
is how I shall call you."

The very drum-beat of hospitality was in his voice. It was a wonderful
voice, deep and warm and musical; not to be forgotten.




V

A SMILE AND A SQUARE CHIN