order and seating himself opposite Selwyn. "I don't usually do it. Here
comes the man who persuades me!--my own partner--"

Selwyn looked up to see Fane approaching; and instantly a dark flush
overspread his face.

"You know George Fane, don't you?" continued Harmon easily; "well,
that's odd; I thought, of course--Captain Selwyn, Mr. Fane. It's not
usual--but it's done."

They exchanged formalities--dry and brief on Selwyn's part, gracefully
urbane on Fane's.

"I've heard so pleasantly of you from Gerald Erroll," he said, "and of
course our people have always been on cordial terms. Neither Mrs. Fane
nor I was fortunate enough to meet you last Tuesday at the Gerards--such
a crush, you know. Are you not joining us, Captain Selwyn?" as the
servant appeared to take orders.

Selwyn declined again, glancing at Harmon--a large-framed, bony young
man with blond, closely trimmed and pointed beard, and the fair colour
of a Swede. He had the high, flat cheek-bones of one, too; and a
thicket of corn-tinted hair, which was usually damp at the ends, and
curled flat against his forehead. He seemed to be always in a slight
perspiration--he had been, anyway, every time Selwyn met him anywhere.

Sandon Craig and Billy Fleetwood came wandering up and joined them; one
or two other men, drifting by, adhered to the group.

Selwyn, involved in small talk, glanced sideways at the great clock, and