As they discussed the piece, and each advanced his reason of pleasure, the doctor expanded into a sort of saintly geniality, which was peculiarly attractive even to sinners.

And when supper was over, and they strolled into the drawing-room to smoke and to make music, he sank into a chair, stretched out his polished boots with a sigh, and said: "And people say there is so little joy in life!" Julian laughed at the satisfied whimsicality of his exclamation and of the expression which shadowed it.
"Light up, doctor," he cried.

"You are a boon to this modern world.

For you see all the sorrows of life, I suppose, and yet you always manage to convey the impression that the joys win the battle after all." Valentine had gone over to the piano and was dreamily opening it.

He did not seem to hear what they were saying.