Truly, for her, the world was still green, the sun bright, the high sky blue; but she had not forgotten that the earth had been greener, the sun brighter, the azure above her more splendid—­once upon a time—­like the first phrase of a tale that is told.  And if she were at times listless, absent-eyed, subdued—­a trifle graver, or unusually silent, seeking the still paths of the garden as though in need of youthful meditation and the quiet of the sunset hour, she never doubted that that tale would be retold for her again.  Only—­alas!—­the fair days were passing, and the russet rustle of October sounded already among the curling leaves in the garden; and he had been away a long time—­a very long time.  And she could not understand.

On one of Austin’s week-end visits, the hour for conjugal confab having arrived and husband and wife locked in the seclusion of their bedroom—­being old-fashioned enough to occupy the same—­he said, with a trace of irritation in his voice: 

“I don’t know where Phil is, or what he’s about.  I’m wondering—­he’s got the Selwyn conscience, you know—­what he’s up to—­and if it’s any kind of dam-foolishness.  Haven’t you heard a word from him, Nina?”

Nina, in her pretty night attire, had emerged from her dressing-room, locked out Kit-Ki and her maid, and had curled up in a big, soft armchair, cradling her bare ankles in her hand.

“I haven’t heard from him,” she said.  “Rosamund saw him in Washington—­passed him on the street.  He was looking horridly thin and worn, she wrote.  He did not see her.”

“Now what in the name of common sense is he doing in Washington!” exclaimed Austin wrathfully.  “Probably breaking his heart because nobody cares to examine his Chaosite.  I told him, as long as he insisted on bothering the Government with it instead of making a deal with the Lawn people, that I’d furnish him with a key to the lobby.  I told him I knew the right people, could get him the right lawyers, and start the thing properly.  Why didn’t he come to me about it?  There’s only one way to push such things, and he’s as ignorant of it as a boatswain in the marine cavalry.”

Nina said thoughtfully:  “You always were impatient of people, dear.  Perhaps Phil may get them to try his Chaosite without any wire-pulling. . . .  I do wish he’d write.  I can’t understand his continued silence.  Hasn’t Boots heard from him?  Hasn’t Gerald?”

“Not a word.  And by the way, Nina, Gerald has done rather an unexpected thing.  I saw him last night; he came to the house and told me that he had just severed his connection with Julius Neergard’s company.”

“I’m glad of it!” exclaimed Nina; “I’m glad he showed the good sense to do it!”