I think I'll step into the west wing and greet my relations.

I won't impose them on you for very long.

Do you know when they are going ?" "I think they have made plans to remain here for a while." "Really ?" he sneered.

"Well, leave that to me, Shiela." So he crossed into the western wing and found the Tressilvains tete-a-tete over a card-table, deeply interested in something that resembled legerdemain; and he stood at the door and watched them with a smile that was not agreeable.
"Well, Helen!" he said at last; and Lady Tressilvain started, and her husband rose to the full height of his five feet nothing, dropping the pack which he had been so nimbly manipulating for his wife's amusement.
"Where the devil did you come from ?" blurted his lordship; but his wife made a creditable appearance in her role of surprised sisterly affection; and when the two men had gone through the form of family greeting they all sat down for the conventional family confab.
Tressilvain said little but drank a great deal of whisky--his long, white, bony fingers were always spread around his glass--unusually long fingers for such a short man, and out of all proportion to the scant five-foot frame, topped with a little pointed head, in which the eyes were set exactly as glass eyes are screwed into the mask of a fox.
"Bertie and I have been practising leads from trick hands," observed Lady Tressilvain, removing the ice from her glass and filling it from a soda bottle which Malcourt uncorked for her.
"Well, Herby," said Malcourt genially, "I suppose you and Helen play a game well worth--ah--watching." Tressilvain looked dully annoyed, although there was nothing in his brother-in-law's remark to ruffle anybody, except that his lordship did not like to be called Herby.

He sat silent, caressing his glass; and presently his little black eyes stole around in Malcourt's direction, and remained there, waveringly, while brother and sister discussed the former's marriage, the situation at Luckless Lake, and future prospects.
That is to say, Lady Tressilvain did the discussing; Malcourt, bland, amiable, remained uncommunicatively polite, parrying everything so innocently that his sister, deceived, became plainer in her questions concerning the fortune he was supposed to have married, and more persistent in her suggestions of a winter in New York--a delightful and prolonged family reunion, in which the Tressilvains were to figure as distinguished guests and virtual pensioners of everybody connected with his wife's family.
"Do you think," drawled Malcourt, intercepting a furtive glance between his sister and brother-in-law, to that gentleman's slight confusion, "do you think it might prove interesting to you and Herby?
Americans are so happy to have your countrymen to entertain--particularly when their credentials are as unquestionable as Herby's and yours." For a full minute, in strained silence, the concentrated gaze of the Tressilvains was focused upon the guileless countenance of Malcourt; and discovered nothing except a fatuous cordiality.
Lady Tressilvain drew a deep, noiseless breath and glanced at her husband.
"I don't understand, Louis, exactly what settlement--what sort of arrangement you made when you married this--very interesting young girl--" "Oh, I didn't have anything to endow her with," said Malcourt, so amiably stupid that his sister bit her lip.
Tressilvain essayed a jest.
"Rather good, that!" he said with his short, barking laugh; "but I da'say the glove was on the other hand, eh, Louis ?" "What ?" "Why the--ah--the lady did the endowing and all that, don't you see ?" "See what ?" asked Malcourt so pleasantly that his sister shot a look at her husband which checked him.
Malcourt was now on maliciously humourous terms with himself; he began to speak impulsively, affectionately, with all the appearance of a garrulous younger brother impatient to unbosom himself to his family; and he talked and talked, confidingly, guilelessly, voluminously, yet managed to say absolutely nothing.