all the loyalties, and who took an honest pride in his friend's growing
success, needed no urging to maintain the intimacy; and his copious reports
of midnight colloquies in Darrow's lodgings showed Mrs. Peyton that she had
a strong ally in her invisible friend.

It had been, therefore, somewhat of a shock to learn in the course of time
that Darrow's influence was being shared, if not counteracted, by that of a
young lady in whose honour Dick was now giving his first professional tea.
Mrs. Peyton had heard a great deal about Miss Clemence Verney, first from
the usual purveyors of such information, and more recently from her son,
who, probably divining that rumour had been before him, adopted his usual
method of disarming his mother by taking her into his confidence. But,
ample as her information was, it remained perplexing and contradictory, and
even her own few meetings with the girl had not helped her to a definite
opinion. Miss Verney, in conduct and ideas, was patently of the "new
school": a young woman of feverish activities and broad-cast judgments,
whose very versatility made her hard to define. Mrs. Peyton was shrewd
enough to allow for the accidents of environment; what she wished to get
at was the residuum of character beneath Miss Verney's shifting surface.

"It looks charmingly," Mrs. Peyton repeated, giving a loosening touch to
the chrysanthemums in a tall vase on her son's desk.

Dick laughed, and glanced at his watch.

"They won't be here for another quarter of an hour. I think I'll tell Gill
to clean out the work-room before they come."

"Are we to see the drawings for the competition?" his mother asked.