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Serious trouble now shone out of his
eyes. Something had happened. Something was wrong with him; wrong,
too--he reflected--with a world which could find no better occupation for
such a person than to hand round buttered tea-cakes at an old woman's
party to a crowd of cosmopolitan scandalmongers.
Denis rose, remarking:
"I wish I could stay a little longer! But it is getting so late. I'm
afraid I must be going."
He held out his hand.
"You have caught me in a somewhat sad and depressed mood, I fear,"
replied the other, heaving a most artistic sigh. And his features
suddenly looked quite careworn. As a matter of fact, he had not been so
joyous for many long years--that news of Mr. van Koppen's proximate
arrival having made him feel fifty years younger and, but for his
ingrained sense of Hellenic moderation, almost ready to dance with
delight.
"I am sorry I have been so despondent," he went on. "Sometimes one
cannot help oneself. It shall not occur again! I will try to be more
amusing next time you come.


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