But Selwyn had lighted a cigar, and was again unfolding his evening paper; so his brother-in-law moved ponderously away, yawning frightfully at every heavy stride, and the younger man settled back in his chair, a fragrant cigar balanced between his strong, slim fingers, one leg dropped loosely over the other.  After a while the newspaper fell to the floor.

He sat there without moving for a long time; his cigar, burning close, had gone out.  The reading-lamp spread a circle of soft light over the floor; on the edge of it lay Kit-Ki, placid, staring at him.  After a while he noticed her.  “You?” he said absently; “you hid so they couldn’t put you out.”

At the sound of his voice she began to purr.

“Oh, it’s all very well,” he nodded; “but it’s against the law. 
However,” he added, “I’m rather tired of rules and regulations myself. 
Besides, the world outside is very cold to-night.  Purr away, old lady;
I’m going to bed.”

But he did not stir.

A little later, the fire having burned low, he rose, laid a pair of heavy logs across the coals, dragged his chair to the hearth, and settled down in it deeply.  Then he lifted the cat to his knees.  Kit-Ki sang blissfully, spreading and relaxing her claws at intervals as she gazed at the mounting blaze.

“I’m going to bed, Kit-Ki,” he repeated absently, “because that’s a pretty good place for me . . . far better than sitting up here with you—­and conscience.”

But he only lay back deeper in the velvet chair and lighted another cigar.

“Kit-Ki,” he said, “the words men utter count in the reckoning; but not as heavily as the words men leave unuttered; and what a man does scores deeply; but—­alas for the scars of the deeds he has left undone.”

The logs were now wrapped in flame, and their low mellow roaring mingled to a monotone with the droning of the cat on his knees.

Long after his cigar burnt bitter, he sat with eyes fixed on the blaze.  When the flames at last began to flicker and subside, his lids fluttered, then drooped; but he had lost all reckoning of time when he opened them again to find Miss Erroll in furs and ball-gown kneeling on the hearth and heaping kindling on the coals, and her pretty little Alsatian maid beside her, laying a log across the andirons.

“Upon my word!” he murmured, confused; then rising quickly, “Is that you, Miss Erroll?  What time is it?”

“Four o’clock in the morning, Captain Selwyn,” she said, straightening up to her full height.  “This room is icy; are you frozen?”

Chilled through, he stood looking about in a dazed way, incredulous of the hour and of his own slumber.

“I was conversing with Kit-Ki a moment ago,” he protested, in such a tone of deep reproach that Eileen laughed while her maid relieved her of furs and scarf.

“Susanne, just unhook those two that I can’t manage; light the fire in my bedroom; et merci bien, ma petite!”