my arm, and said:--"Oh, Evelyn, you are a
dear! It's good to be with you. It's good to be back." And we chatted
in great contentment for the rest of the drive.

There were several hours to spare before dinner. I made Charmion take a
bath, and then go really and truly to bed, until seven o'clock, when I
woke her and issued orders for her prettiest, most becoming frock, grey,
of course, a mist of silver and cloudy gauze. When she came into the
little sitting-room she looked fresh and radiant--younger than I had
ever beheld her. Looking at her, I was suddenly reminded of a line in
one of dear Robert Louis Stevenson's beautiful prayers--"Cleanse from
our hearts the lurking grudge!" How can any immortal being, made in
God's own image, expect to be happy and healthful while he or she is
cherishing bitter grudging feelings against a fellow-man? Charmion's
battle had been a long, up-hill fight, but it was won at last. The sign
of victory was in her face. Now for the victor's crown!

Dinner was cleared away. The waiter placed coffee on a small table and
disappeared. Charmion piled up the cushions at one end of the sofa,
nestled against them, and said smilingly:--

"_Now_! I've been very patient, but not another moment can I wait.
There's an air of mystery about you, Evelyn, a muffled excitement which
intrigues me vastly. Oh! you've tried very hard! you kept up the
chatter, but it's been hard work. Your thoughts have strayed; half the
time you have not heard my replies. Your eyes are dark and big--
dilated, like an excited child's! If you had not denied it so stoutly,
I should feel convinced that there was a man--"

"My dear, this concerns you, not me. Charmion, can't you guess? It is
wonderful, wonderful news. Can't you imagine whom it is about? You
told me your story, but not his name--your name! When I heard it, it
conveyed nothing to me. When I met him--"

She held out her hands, as if to ward off a blow. After all my fencing,
the great news had come blurting out, without preface or preparation.
White as a sheet, she stared at me with anguished eyes.

"Met! You? Edward? You have met, and--spoken?"

"I know him well. He is a close friend, almost a brother of the man
whose child was ill, and whom I helped to nurse--another tenant in the
flats. I think I mentioned him--a darling child. We thought he would
die. We grew intimate, comforting one another, waiting day after day--"

"You mention