A footman threw open the door and took Brooks’ dressing-case.  A butler, hurrying up from the background, ushered them into the drawing-room.  Mr. Bullsom pulled down his waistcoat and marched in; whistling softly a popular tune.  Selina and Louise, in elaborate evening gowns, were playing bridge with two young men.

Selina rose and held out her hand to Brooks a little languidly.

“So glad to see you, Mr. Brooks,” she declared.  “Let me introduce Mr. Suppeton, Captain Meyton!”

The two young men were good enough to acknowledge the introduction, and Brooks shook hands with Louise.  Selina was surveying her father with uplifted eyebrows.

“Why, father, where on earth have you been?” she exclaimed.  “I never saw anybody such a sight.  Your shirt is like a rag, and your collar too.”

“Never you mind me, Selina,” Mr. Bullsom answered, firmly.  “As to where I’ve been, you know quite well.  Political dinners may be bad for your linen, and there may be more healths drunk than is altogether wise, but a Member of Parliament has to take things as he finds ’em.  Don’t let us interrupt your game.  Brooks and I are going to have a game at billiards.”

One of the young men laid down his cards.

“Can’t we join you?” he suggested.  “We might have a game of pool, if it isn’t too late.”

“You are soon tired of bridge,” Selina remarked, reproachfully.  “Very well, we will all go into the billiard-room.”

The men played a four-handed game.  Between the shots Selina talked to Brooks.

“Were you surprised?” she asked.  “Had you heard?”

“Not a word.  I was astonished,” he answered.

“You hadn’t seen it in the papers either?  Most of them mentioned it—­in the county notes.”

“I so seldom read the newspapers,” he said.  “You like it, of course?”

Selina was bereft of words.

“How we ever existed in that hateful suburb,” she whispered under her breath.  “And the people round here too are so sociable.  Papa being a member makes a difference, of course.  Then the barracks—­isn’t it delightful having them so close?  There is always something going on.  A cricket match to-morrow, I believe.  Louise and I are going to play.  Mrs. Malevey—­she’s the Colonel’s wife, you know persuaded us into it.”

“And your mother?” Brooks asked a minute or two later.

Selina tossed her head.

“Mother is so foolish,” she declared.  “She misses the sound of the trains, and she actually calls the place dead alive, because she can’t sit at the windows and see the tradesmen’s carts and her neighbours go by.  Isn’t it ridiculous?”

Brooks hesitated.

“I suppose so,” he answered.  “Your mother can have her friends out here, though.  It really is only a short drive to Medchester.”

“She won’t have them oftener than I can help,” Selina declared, doggedly.  “Old Mrs. Mason called the other day when Captain Meyton and Mrs. Malevey were here.  It was most awkward.  But I don’t know why I tell you all these things,” she declared, abruptly.  “Somehow I always feel that you are quite an old friend.”