had
cursed the temper of his blood; he had raved at himself for vulgar
gratifications; and once more the struggle was renewed. Asceticism in
diet had failed him doubly; it reduced his power of wholesome exertion,
and caused a mental languor treacherous to his chief purpose. Nowadays
he ate and drank like any other of the sons of men, on the whole to his
plain advantage.

A day or two after receiving a letter from Mrs. Hannaford, in which she
told him of her removal to Dr. Derwent's house, he bade farewell to his
father.

To his hotel in London, that night, came a note he had expected. Mrs.
Hannaford asked him to call in Bryanston Square at eleven the next
morning.

As he approached the house, memories shamed him. How he had slunk about
the square under his umbrella; how he had turned away in black despair
after that "Not at home"; his foolish long-tailed coat, his glistening
stovepipe! To-day, with scarce a thought for his dress, he looked
merely what he was: an educated man, of average physique, of
intelligent visage, of easy bearing. For all that, his heart throbbed
as he stood at the door, and with catching breath, he followed the
servant upstairs.

Before Mrs. Hannaford appeared, he had time to glance round the
drawing-room, which was simpler in array than is common in such houses.
His eye fell upon a portrait, a large crayon drawing, hung in a place
of honour; he knew it must represent Irene's mother; there was a
resemblance to the face which haunted him, with more of sweetness, with
a riper humanity. Whilst his wife still lived, Dr. Derwent had not been
able to afford a painting of her; this drawing was done and well done,
in the after days from photographs. On the wall beneath it was a little
bracket, supporting a little glass vessel which held a rose. The year
round, this tiny altar never lacked its flower.

Mrs. Hannaford entered. Her smile of greeting was not untroubled, but
seeing her for the first time somewhat ornately clad, and with suitable
background, Piers was struck by the air of youth that animated her
features. He had always admired Mrs. Hannaford, had always liked her,
and as she took his hand in both her own, he felt a warm response to
her unfeigned kindliness.

"Well, is it settled?"

"It is settled. I go back to Odessa, remain with the firm for another
six months, then make the great launch!"

They laughed together, both nervously. Piers' eyes wandered, and Mrs.
Hannaford, as she sat