“What an infernal idiot you are, Sam!”

“Ya-as, so they say.  Some say I’m an ass, others a bally idiot, others merely refer to me as imbecile.  And so it goes, Kelly,—­so it goes.”

He flourished his mahl-stick, neatly punctured the air, and cried “Hah!” very fiercely.

Then he said: 

“I’ve concluded to let Helene know about it this afternoon.”

“About what?—­you monkey?”

“About our marriage. Won’t it surprise her though!  Oh, no!  But I think I’ll let her into the secret before some suspicious gink gets wind of it and tells her himself.”

Neville looked at the boy, perplexed, undecided, until he caught his eye.  And over Sam’s countenance stole a vivid and beauteous blush.

“Sam!  I—­upon my word I believe you mean it!”

“Sure I do!”

Neville grasped his hand: 

“My dear fellow!” he said cordially, “I was slow, not unsympathetic.  I’m frightfully glad—­I’m perfectly delighted.  She’s a charming and sincere woman.  Go in and win and God bless you both!”

Ogilvy wrung his hand, then, to relieve his feelings, ran all over the floor like a spider and was pretending to spin a huge web in a corner when Harry Annan and Rita Tevis came in and discovered him.

“Hah!” he exclaimed, “flies!  Two nice, silly, appetising flies.  Pretend to fall into my web, Rita, and begin to buzz like mad!”

Rita’s dainty nose went up into the air, but Annan succumbed to the alluring suggestion, and presently he was buzzing frantically in a corner while Sam spun an imaginary web all over him.

Rita and Neville looked on for a while.

“Sam never will grow up,” she said disdainfully.

“He’s fortunate,” observed Neville.

“You don’t think so.”

“I wish I knew what I did think, Rita.  How is John?”

“I came to tell you.  He has gone to Dartford.”

“To see Dr. Ogilvy?  Good!  I’m glad, Rita.  Billy Ogilvy usually makes people do what he tells them to do.”

[Illustration:  “Ogilvy ... began a lively fencing bout with an imaginary adversary.”]

The girl stood silent, eyes lowered.  After a while she looked up at him; and in her unfaltering but sorrowful gaze he read the tragedy which he had long since suspected.

Neither spoke for a moment; he held out both hands; she laid hers in them, and her gaze became remote.

After a while she said in a low voice: 

“Let me be with you now and then while he’s away; will you, Kelly?”

“Yes.  Would you like to pose for me?  I haven’t anything pressing on hand.  You might begin now if it suits you.”

“May I?” she asked gratefully.

“Of course, child....  Let me think—­” He looked again into her dark blue eyes, absently, then suddenly his attention became riveted upon something which he seemed to be reading in her face.