Harold had been looking for them, anxious to see the crimson satin trimmed with ermine, of which Dick had told him.

Many of the guests he had mentally criticised unsparingly, but Mrs.
St.Claire, he knew, was genuine, and his face beamed, when in passing him, she smiled upon him with her sweet, gracious manner, and said, pleasantly: 'Good evening, Harold.

I knew you were to be here.

Dick told me, and he wanted to come and assist you, but I thought he'd better stay home with Nina.' Up to this time no one had spoken to Harold, and he had spoken to no one except to tell them where to go, but had, as far as possible, followed Mrs.Tracy's injunction to be a machine.

But the machine was getting a little tired.