“Well?”

“Mama wants you to come over and spend the night with us.  John and Kate will be here, too.”

He recognized Patty’s voice.

“I shall be very glad to,” he replied.  “Good-by.”  He rang for Mary, who came in, her eyes red and swollen; Poor soul, she had also lost her best friend.  “I am going over to the Benningtons’ to spend the night, Mary.

“Very well, sir; just as you think best.”

The Benningtons were very kind to him.  They engaged his interest the moment he entered the house.  They talked of a thousand and one things diverting:  the foreign news, the political outlook, the September horse-show at which Patty would ride and jump, what was contemplated in society for the fall and winter, the ice-carnival, and the engagements.

“Why don’t you enter your Irish hunter?” asked John, when the talk veered around to horses again.

“I ride for the mere pleasure of it,” replied Warrington; “or, if you will, I’m too lazy to learn the judges’ catechism.”

Presently they had him telling how he had written his first play, and how completely Mrs. Jack had fooled him on their first meeting.

“No, I have not the slightest desire to return to the stage,” said Mrs. Jack, in answer to a casual inquiry made by Warrington.

“Not while I’m around,” supplemented John.

“Why, nothing could lure me back to it,” Mrs. Jack declared emphatically.  “I am happy.  I am very happy.  I have nothing to wish for, save that my happiness may endure.”

Mrs. Bennington, who had long since grown to love her daughter-in-law, smiled benignly.

“You will always be happy, my dear; you were born to be.  It is the just reward for making those around you happy.”

“Patty,” said Warrington, “would you like the Angora?”

“I should love it dearly.”

“Then I’ll send it over to you in the morning.”

And that was as near as they approached the subject they were tacitly avoiding.

At a quarter of nine, to the consternation of every one, Mrs. Franklyn-Haldene was announced.

“Take me up stairs to the billiard-room,” said Warrington; “I am not in the mood to meet that woman to-night.”

“Come on, then,” cried John, willing enough.  “There’s the servants’ stairs.  I’ll give you a handicap of twenty in a hundred points.”

“I’ll beat you at those odds.”

“That remains to be seen.”

And the two hurried up the stairs just as the hall-door closed.  The billiard-room was situated at the head of the front stairs.  Warrington won the bank, and he ran a score of ten.  While he was chalking his cue he heard voices.

“It is very sad.”  It was Mrs. Franklyn-Haldene talking.  “We shall miss her in church work.  It is a severe blow to Mr. Warrington.”

“That was a good draw, John.  Three cushions this time.  Good.  You’re playing strong to-night.”