wrecked his rooms and shaved off half a growing moustache. He conveyed
to young Mr. Rastall-Retford the impression that, in the dear old
'Varsity days, they had shared each other's joys and sorrows, and,
generally, had made Damon and Pythias look like a pair of cross-talk
knockabouts at one of the rowdier music-halls. Not to invite so old a
friend to stay at his home, if he ever happened to be down that way,
would, he hinted, be grossly churlish. Mr. Rastall-Retford, impressed,
issued the invitation. And now Peter was being punished for his deceit.
Nemesis may not be an Alfred Shrubb, but give her time and she gets
there.

* * * * *

It was towards the middle of the second week of his visit that Eve,
coming into the drawing-room before dinner, found Peter standing in
front of the fire. They had not been alone together for several days.

"Well?" said he.

Eve went to the fire and warmed her hands.

"Well?" she said, dispiritedly.

She was feeling nervous and ill. Mrs. Rastall-Retford had been in one
of her more truculent moods all day, and for the first time Eve had the
sensation of being thoroughly beaten. She dreaded the long hours to
bedtime. The thought that there might be bridge after dinner made her
feel physically ill. She felt she could not struggle through a bridge
night.