once.

"I will drop in on our way back and finish this letter," he said. "You
must get out of the house as quickly as possible. By Jove! how bad you
look!" He put his hand on his friend's shoulder and looked at him a
moment. He was the average Englishman in most of his details,
tall, well-built, with a good profile, and a ruddy Saxon face. His
individual characteristics were an eternal twinkle in his eye, a
forehead with remarkably well-developed reflectives, and a very square
chin and jaw. Just now the twinkle was less aggressive and his face
had softened noticeably. "There is no help for it, I suppose, Hal, is
there?" he said.

Dartmouth looked back at him with a smile, and a good deal of
affection in his eyes. "No, old fellow," he replied; "I am afraid
there is not. But they are rarely as bad as this last. And--thank you
for coming."

They went out together and walked to the Café Anglais on the Boulevard
des Italiens. The air was keen and cold, the walk a long one, and
Dartmouth felt like another man by the time he sat down to breakfast.
One or two other men joined them. Hollington was unusually witty, the
conversation was general and animated, and when Dartmouth left the
café the past week seemed an ugly dream. In the afternoon he met the
wife of the American Consul-General, Mrs. Raleigh, in the Bois, and
learned from her that Margaret Talbot had left Paris. This left him
free to remain; and when Mrs. Raleigh reminded him that her doors were
open that evening, he asked permission at once to present himself.
Mrs. Raleigh not only had a distinguished and interesting salon, but
she casually remarked that she expected Miss Penrhyn, and Dartmouth