“Oh, I’ve got a new man who says that’s rot.”

“Well, you don’t look as if your new man were right,” said Mr. Grisben bluntly.

Faxon saw the lad’s color fade, and the rings of shadow deepen under his gay eyes.  At the same moment his uncle turned to him with a renewed intensity of attention.  There was such solicitude in Mr. Lavington’s gaze that it seemed almost to fling a tangible shield between his nephew and Mr. Grisben’s tactless scrutiny.

“We think Frank’s a good deal better,” he began; “this new doctor—­”

The butler, coming up, bent discreetly to whisper a word in his ear, and the communication caused a sudden change in Mr. Lavington’s expression.  His face was naturally so colorless that it seemed not so much to pale as to fade, to dwindle and recede into something blurred and blotted-out.  He half rose, sat down again and sent a rigid smile about the table.

“Will you excuse me?  The telephone.  Peters, go on with the dinner.”  With small precise steps he walked out of the door which one of the footmen had hastened to throw open.

A momentary silence fell on the group; then Mr. Grisben once more addressed himself to Rainer.  “You ought to have gone, my boy; you ought to have gone.”

The anxious look returned to the youth’s eyes.  “My uncle doesn’t think so, really.”

“You’re not a baby, to be always governed on your uncle’s opinion.  You came of age to-day, didn’t you?  Your uncle spoils you ... that’s what’s the matter....”

The thrust evidently went home, for Rainer laughed and looked down with a slight accession of color.

“But the doctor——­”

“Use your common sense, Frank!  You had to try twenty doctors to find one to tell you what you wanted to be told.”

A look of apprehension overshadowed Rainer’s gaiety.  “Oh, come—­I say! ...  What would you do?” he stammered.

“Pack up and jump on the first train.”  Mr. Grisben leaned forward and laid a firm hand on the young man’s arm “Look here:  my nephew Jim Grisben is out there ranching on a big scale.  He’ll take you in and be glad to have you.  You say your new doctor thinks it won’t do you any good; but he doesn’t pretend to say it will do you harm, does he?  Well, then—­give it a trial.  It’ll take you out of hot theatres and night restaurants, anyhow....  And all the rest of it....  Eh, Balch?”

“Go!” said Mr. Balch hollowly.  “Go at once,” he added, as if a closer look at the youth’s face had impressed on him the need of backing up his friend.

Young Rainer had turned ashy-pale.  He tried to stiffen his mouth, into a smile.  “Do I look as bad as all that?”

Mr. Grisben was helping himself to terrapin.  “You look like the day after an earthquake,” he said concisely.

The terrapin had encircled the table, and been deliberately enjoyed by Mr. Lavington’s three visitors (Rainer, Faxon noticed, left his plate untouched) before the door was thrown open to re-admit their host.