he had drunk, as was his custom, sparingly, and of Mary Scott, who had certainly interested him in a manner which the rest of the family had not, he had after all seen but very little.  He found himself thinking with fervor of the desirable things in life, never had the various tasks which he had set himself seemed so easy an accomplishment, his own powers more real and alive.  And beneath it all he was conscious of a vague sense of excitement, a nervous dancing of the blood, as though even now the time were at hand when he might find himself in touch with some of the greater forces of life, all of which he intended some day to realize.  It was delightful after all to be young and strong, to be stripped for the race in the morning of life, when every indrawn breath seems sweet with the perfume of beautiful things, and the heart is tuned to music.

The fatigue of the day was wholly forgotten.  He was surprised indeed when he found himself in the little street where his rooms were.  A small brougham was standing at the corner, the liveries and horse of which, though quiet enough, caused him a moment’s surprise as being superior to the ordinary equipages of the neighborhood.  He passed on to the sober-fronted house where he lived, and entering with his latch-key made his way to his study.  Immediately he entered he was conscious of a man comfortably seated in his easy-chair, and apparently engrossed in a magazine.

He advanced towards him inquiringly, and his visitor, carefully setting down the magazine, rose slowly to his feet.  The young man’s surprise at finding his rooms occupied was increased by the appearance of his visitor.  He was apparently of more than middle age, with deeply-lined face, tall, and with an expression the coldness of which was only slightly mitigated by a sensitive mouth that seemed at once cynical and humorous.  He was of more than ordinary height, and dressed in the plainest dinner garb of the day, but his dinner jacket, his black tie and the set of his shirt were revelations to Brooks, who dealt only with the Medchester tradespeople.  He did not hold out his hand, but he eyed Brooks with a sort of critical survey, which the latter found a little disconcerting.

“You wished to see me, sir?” Brooks asked.  “My name is Kingston Brooks, and these are my rooms.”

“So I understood,” the new-comer replied imperturbably.  “I called about an hour ago, and took the liberty of awaiting your return.”

Brooks sat down.  His vis-a-vis was calmly selecting a cigarette from a capacious case.  Brooks found himself offering a light and accepting a cigarette himself, the flavour of which he at once appreciated.

“Can I offer you a whisky-and-soda?” he inquired.

“I thank you, no,” was the quiet reply.

There was a short pause.

“You wished to see me on some business connected with the election, no doubt?” Brooks suggested.

His visitor shook his head slowly.  He knocked the ash from his cigarette and smiled whimsically.