the hearth."

Aloud he said: "If you will permit me, Miss Reynier, I would like to
inform you at once of the immediate object of my visit here. You must be
well aware--" At this point Mr. Van Camp, who, true to his nature, was
looking squarely in the face of his companion, of necessity allowed
himself to be interrupted by Miss Reynier's lifted hand. She was looking
beyond her visitor through the drawing-room door.

"Mr. Chamberlain and Mr. Lloyd-Jones," announced the servant.

As Miss Reynier swept forward with outstretched hand to greet the
new-comers, Van Camp fixed his eyes on his hostess with a mingled
expression of masculine rage and submission. Whether he thought her too
cordial toward the other men or too cool toward himself, was not
apparent. Presently he, too, was shaking hands with the visitors, who
were evidently old friends of the house. Madame Reynier, the aunt of
mademoiselle, was summoned, and Van Camp was marooned on a sofa with
Lloyd-Jones, who was just in from the West. Aleck found himself
listening to an interminable talk about copper veins and silver veins, a
new kind of assaying instrument, and the good luck attendant upon the
opening of Lloyd-Jones' new mine, the Liza Lu.

Aleck was the essence of courtesy to everything except sham, and was able
to indicate a mild interest in Mr. Lloyd-Jones' mining affairs. It was
sufficient. Lloyd-Jones turned sidewise on his end of the sofa, spread
out plump, gesticulating hands, and poured upon him an eloquent torrent
of fact, speculation and high-spirited enthusiasm concerning Idaho in
general and the future of the Liza Lu in particular. More than that, by
and by his cheerful, half-impudent manner threatened to turn poetic.