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years. Alfred, darling, Mr. Hastings--my husband."

I looked with some curiosity at "Alfred darling". He certainly struck a rather

alien note. I did not wonder at John objecting to his beard. It was one of the

longest and blackest I have ever seen. He wore gold-rimmed pince-nez, and

had a curious impassivity of feature. It struck me that he might look natural

on a stage, but was strangely out of place in real life. His voice was rather

deep and unctuous. He placed a wooden hand in mine and said:

"This is a pleasure, Mr. Hastings." Then, turning to his wife: "Emily dearest,

I think that cushion is a little damp."

She beamed fondly on him, as he substituted another with every

demonstration of the tenderest care. Strange infatuation of an otherwise

sensible woman!

With the presence of Mr. Inglethorp, a sense of constraint and veiled

hostility seemed to settle down upon the company. Miss Howard, in

particular, took no pains to conceal her feelings. Mrs. Inglethorp, however,

seemed to notice nothing unusual. Her volubility, which I remembered of

old, had lost nothing in the intervening years, and she poured out a steady

flood of conversation, mainly on the subject of the forthcoming bazaar which

she was organizing and which was to take place shortly. Occasionally she

referred to her husband over a question of days or dates. His watchful and

attentive manner never varied. From the very first I took a firm and rooted

dislike to him, and I flatter myself that my first judgments are usually fairly

shrewd.

Presently Mrs. Inglethorp turned to give some instructions about letters to

Evelyn Howard, and her husband addressed me in his painstaking voice:

Is soldiering your regular profession, Mr. Hastings?"

No, before the war I was in Lloyd's."

And you will return there after it is over?"

Perhaps. Either that or a fresh start altogether."

Mary Cavendish leant forward.

What would you really choose as a profession, if you could just consult

The Mysterious Affair at Styles