THE shooting party came, and Paul, able to leave his room and sit in the sunshine and crawl about the lawn and come down to dinner, though early retirement was prescribed, went among the strange men and women of the aristocratic caste like one in a dream of bliss.

Much of their talk, sport and personalities, was unintelligible; every man seemed to have killed everything everywhere and every woman seemed to know everybody and everybody's intimate secrets.

So when conversation was general, Paul, who had killed nothing and knew nobody, listened in silent perplexity.

But even the perplexity was a happiness.

It was all so new, so fascinating.