He too was musing; but musing on unhappy things, for a hand seemed to have swept his face and wiped the joy from it.

He was gazing at his half-emptied glass, with the short stem of which his fingers were nervously toying.

There was a quick snap.

The stem broke and the wine flowed over the cloth.

He started, and with a flash the old Adrian came back, manifesting itself in his smiling dismay, his boyish apology to Mr.Jornicroft for smashing a rare glass, spoiling the tablecloth and wasting precious wine.