presence
so easy and comfortable, not only for myself but for those two poor,
sad, helpless young men. However much one may rail against convention,
it remains an unalterable fact that youth and good looks are _not_ the
best qualification for indiscriminate work among one's fellow-creatures.
I must remember this fact when I grow really old, and apply it as balm
to my wounded vanity.

Over the chocolate and sandwiches we would talk--not about Billie, if
possible; and I learnt that the two men had first met at Harrow, had
then been separated for many years, and had renewed the old friendship
during the last two years.

There is evidently a strong sympathy between them--a sympathy of
suffering, I think, for with all his charm, it is evident that Mr
Hallett is not a happy man. He says little about himself, but I gather
that he travels a great deal, that he writes for various reviews, and
that--to say the least of it--he is not overburdened with wealth. He
never mentions any "belongings," and is evidently unmarried. I wonder
why, for he is certainly unusually attractive. Sometimes when we have
been sitting talking together, I have been so conscious of this
attraction that I have had quite a violent longing to be Evelyn Wastneys
once more, and to meet him, so to speak, on his own ground!

He is most nice to me--oh, most nice! He thinks me a kind, sensible,
generous old dear; says I deserve a Victoria Cross, and that no block of
mansions is complete without me. One night he asked me smilingly if I
would come and nurse him if he were ill; another time he said he could
almost find it in his heart to wish that my money would disappear, so
that he could engage me as a permanent housekeeper. Then Mr Thorold
interrupted, and said that the first claim was his, and that if my
services were to be bought, no other man should have them unless over
his own dead body. They argued jestingly, while I blushed--a hot,
overwhelming blush, and seeing it, they paused, looking mystified and
distressed, and abruptly changed the conversation. Did they think me
ridiculous and a prude, or did that blush for the moment obliterate the
sham signs of age, and show them for the moment the face of a girl? I
should like to know, but probably I never shall.

For four long weeks Billie's life hung in the balance, for after the
pneumonia crisis was passed, unconsciousness continued, and the terrible
word "meningitis" was whispered from lip to lip