As he entered, he had a sudden sensation that they had been awaiting him
in a strained expectancy, and that, as he appeared, they adjusted unseen
masks and began to play-act at something. "But English people don't
play-act very well," he commented to himself, reviewing the scene
afterward.

Lady Sherwood had come forward and greeted him in a manner which would
have been pleasant enough, if he had not, with quick sensitiveness, felt
it to be forced. But perhaps that was English stiffness.

Then she had turned to her husband, who was standing staring into the
fireplace, although, as it was June, there was no fire there to stare
at.

"Charles," she said, "here is Lieutenant Cary"; and her voice had a
certain note in it which at home Cary and his sister Nancy were in the
habit of designating "mother-making-dad-mind-his-manners."

At her words the old man--and Cary was startled to see how old and
broken he was--turned round and held out his hand, "How d'you do?" he
said jerkily, "how d'you do?" and then turned abruptly back again to the
fireplace.

"Hello! What's up! The old boy doesn't like me!" was Cary's quick,
startled comment to himself.

He was so surprised by the look the other bent upon him that he
involuntarily glanced across to a long mirror to see if there was
anything wrong with his uniform. But no, that appeared to be all right.
It was himself, then--or his country; perhaps the old sport didn't fall