The speaker looked up smiling, but neither the tone nor the smile was
really cordial. Ashe felt the embarrassment that he had once or twice
felt before in telling Darrell news of good fortune. There seemed to be
something in Darrell that resented it--under an outer show of
felicitation.

However, they went on talking of the political moment and its prospects,
and of Ashe's personal affairs. As to the last, Darrell questioned, and
Ashe somewhat reluctantly replied. It appeared that his allowance was to
be largely raised, that his paralyzed father, in fact, was anxious to
put him in possession of a substantial share in the income of the
estates, that one of the country-houses was to be made over to him, and
so on.

"Which means, of course, that they want you to marry," said Darrell.
"Well, you've only to throw the handkerchief."

They were passing a lamp as he spoke, and the light shone on his long,
pale face--a face of discontent--with its large sunken eyes and hollow
cheeks.

Ashe treated the remark as "rot," and endeavored to get away from his
own affairs by discussing the party they had just left.

"How does she get all those people together? It's astonishing!"

"Well, I always liked Madame d'Estrées well enough," said Darrell, "but,
upon my word, she has done a beastly mean thing in bringing that girl
over."