unattractiveness of the women she gathered around her, the
ill-assortment of people who had little in themselves and nothing
whatever in common?

Of all the party, only Audrey and the rector had interested him
even remotely. Audrey amused him. Audrey was a curious mixture
of intelligence and frivolity. She was a good fellow. Sometimes
he thought she was a nice woman posing as not quite nice. He
didn't know. He was not particularly analytical, but at least she
had been one bit of cheer during the endless succession of courses.

The rector was the other, and he was relieved to find Doctor
Haverford moving up to the vacant place at his right.

"I've been wanting to see you, Clay," he said in an undertone.
"It's rather stupid to ask you how you found things over there.
But I'm going to do it."

"You mean the war?"

"There's nothing else in the world, is there?"

"One wouldn't have thought so from the conversation here to-night."

Clayton Spencer glanced about the table. Rodney Page, the
architect, was telling a story clearly not for the ears of the
clergy, and his own son, Graham, forced in at the last moment to
fill a vacancy, was sitting alone, bored and rather sulky, and
sipping his third cognac.