But an hour later, when Laura⁠—who had omitted her ride that morning⁠—looked into the room, he was not there. The magazines were helter-skeltered upon the floor and table, where he had tossed each one after turning the leaves. A servant told her that Mr. Jadwin was out in the stables.

She saw him through the window, in a cap and greatcoat, talking with the coachman and looking over one of the horses. But he came back to the house in a little while, and she found him in his smoking-room with a novel in his hand.

“Oh, I read that last week,” she said, as she caught a glimpse of the title. “Isn’t it interesting? Don’t you think it is good?”

“Oh⁠—yes⁠—pretty good,” he admitted. “Isn’t it about time for lunch? Let’s go to the matinee this afternoon, Laura. Oh, that’s so, it’s Thursday; I forgot.”