Returning to the dining-room, and pausing for an instant behind the screen at the door, Eugene overhears, above the hum and clatter, the fair Tippins saying: “I am dying to ask him what he was called out for!”

“Are you?” mutters Eugene, “then perhaps if you can’t ask him, you’ll die. So I’ll be a benefactor to society, and go. A stroll and a cigar, and I can think this over. Think this over.” Thus, with a thoughtful face, he finds his hat and cloak, unseen of the Analytical, and goes his way.