growled Herman out of his beard, as he sat with his head sunk upon his
breast, staring into the fire.

"They had a scene that wouldn't have done discredit to a first-class
opera-bouffe company," Bently went on, laughing at the remembrance.

"Nick was fool enough to hollo to somebody in the next room, and the
result was that we all came trooping in like a chorus. It was absurd
enough."

And he laughed afresh.

"But the girl?" persisted Grant Herman, not removing his gaze from the
fire. "How did she take it?"

"Oh, she was as calm and cold as you please. She gathered herself
together and went off without any fuss."

"I wish when you are done with her, you'd send her round to me," Herman
rejoined. "I want a model for a figure, and if I remember her, she'll
do capitally."

He rose as he spoke, with the air of a man who intends going home.

"By the way," Fenton said to him, "isn't the Pagan night next week?
Don't you have it this month?"

"Yes; you'll get your invitations sometime or other. Good night all."

"Oh, don't break good company," Rangely remonstrated. "I have half a