"A very unsatisfactory one for any poor soul who may have been
fool enough to lose her heart to him." Miss Craven's voice was
caustic.

"I have often wondered if any demoiselle 'pined in a green and
yellow melancholy for his sake,' she added, rising from the table.

"Reason enough, if he knew of it, for going to Virginia," said
Craven, with a hard laugh. "The family traditions have never
tended to undue consideration of the weaker sex."

"Barry, you are horrible!"

"Possibly, my dear aunt, but correct," he replied coolly, crossing
the room to open the door. "Even Peter, who has the family history
at his fingers' ends, cannot deny it." His voice was provocative
but Peters, beyond a mildly sarcastic "--thank you for the 'even,'
Barry--" refused to be drawn.

Her nephew's words would formerly have aroused a storm of
indignant protest from Miss Craven, touched in a tender spot. But
now some intuition warned her to silence. She put her arm through
Gillian's and left the room without attempting to expostulate.

In the drawing room she sat down to a patience table, lit a
cigarette, rumpled her hair, and laid out the cards frowningly.
More than ever was she convinced that in the two years he had been
away some serious disaster had occurred. His whole character
appeared to have undergone a change. He was totally different. The
old Barry had been neither hard nor cynical, the new Barry was