"I'll break his head if he is," said Mordaunt; but he let her go, as she
evidently desired, and prepared to follow her in.

They met Rupert sauntering out "to pay his respects," as he termed it,
though, if there were any luck going, he supposed that his future
brother-in-law had secured it all.

"Thought you didn't believe in luck," observed Mordaunt.

"I believe in bad luck," returned Rupert pessimistically. "I only know
the other sort by hearsay."

"Isn't he absurd?" laughed Chris. "He always talks like that. And there
are crowds of people worse off than he is."

"Query," remarked her brother, with a shrug of the shoulders; but an
instant later, aware of Mordaunt's look, he changed the subject.

They were a small party at dinner, for there remained but Hilda Forest to
complete the number. She had only that afternoon returned to town. Mrs.
Forest was dining out, to Chris's unfeigned relief. For Chris was in high
spirits that night, and only in her aunt's absence could she give them
full vent.

But, if gay, she was also provokingly elusive. Mordaunt had never seen
her so effervescent, so sublimely inconsequent, or so naïvely bewitching
as she was throughout the meal. Rupert, reckless and _débonnaire_,
encouraged her wild mood. As his youngest brother expressed it, he and
Chris 'generally ran amok' when they got together. And Hilda, the sedate,