While the twins talked, his eyes travelled from one to the other, attentive, but curiously aloof.
He was saying to himself that Pamela was extremely pretty, and Desmond a splendid fellow.

Then--in a moment--while he looked at his young brother, a vision, insistent, terrible, passed ghost-like between him and the boy.

Again and again he tried to shake it off, and again and again it interposed.
'Oh, Aubrey, what will you do ?' said Pamela despairingly, leaning her head against her brother's knee.
Her voice recalled him.

He laid his hand upon her beautiful hair.
'Well, dear, there's only one thing, of course, for me to do--to stick to Beryl and let father do his worst.' 'Hurrah!' said Desmond.

'That's all right.