A deep-drawn yard-long sigh from the distraught and dreaming artist, followed by a murmured, “Miserable, oh, miserable!”

“Well, no, I shouldn’t say that about it, quite.  On the contrary, I admire his ability to conceal his humor even more if possible than I admire the gift itself, stupendous as it is.  Another thing—­General Hawkins is a thinker; a keen, logical, exhaustive, analytical thinker—­ perhaps the ablest of modern times.  That is, of course, upon themes suited to his size, like the glacial period, and the correlation of forces, and the evolution of the Christian from the caterpillar—­any of those things; give him a subject according to his size, and just stand back and watch him think!  Why you can see the place rock!  Ah, yes, you must know him; you must get on the inside of him.  Perhaps the most extraordinary mind since Aristotle.”

Dinner was kept waiting for a while for Miss Thompson, but as Gwendolen had not delivered the invitation to her the waiting did no good, and the household presently went to the meal without her.  Poor old Sellers tried everything his hospitable soul could devise to make the occasion an enjoyable one for the guest, and the guest tried his honest best to be cheery and chatty and happy for the old gentleman’s sake; in fact all hands worked hard in the interest of a mutual good time, but the thing was a failure from the start; Tracy’s heart was lead in his bosom, there seemed to be only one prominent feature in the landscape and that was a vacant chair, he couldn’t drag his mind away from Gwendolen and his hard luck; consequently his distractions allowed deadly pauses to slip in every now and then when it was his turn to say something, and of course this disease spread to the rest of the conversation—­wherefore, instead of having a breezy sail in sunny waters, as anticipated, everybody was bailing out and praying for land.  What could the matter be?  Tracy alone could have told, the others couldn’t even invent a theory.

Meanwhile they were having a similarly dismal time at the Thompson house; in fact a twin experience.  Gwendolen was ashamed of herself for allowing her disappointment to so depress her spirits and make her so strangely and profoundly miserable; but feeling ashamed of herself didn’t improve the matter any; it only seemed to aggravate the suffering.  She explained that she was not feeling very well, and everybody could see that this was true; so she got sincere sympathy and commiseration; but that didn’t help the case.  Nothing helps that kind of a case.  It is best to just stand off and let it fester.  The moment the dinner was over the girl excused herself, and she hurried home feeling unspeakably grateful to get away from that house and that intolerable captivity and suffering.

Will he be gone?  The thought arose in her brain, but took effect in her heels.  She slipped into the house, threw off her things and made straight for the dining room.  She stopped and listened.  Her father’s voice—­with no life in it; presently her mother’s—­no life in that; a considerable vacancy, then a sterile remark from Washington Hawkins.  Another silence; then, not Tracy’s but her father’s voice again.