oved his grandfather, when he had wanted to be
human rather than professional, and always he had found Austin blocking
his idealistic impulses, scoffing at the things he had valued, imposing
upon him a somewhat hard philosophy in the place of a living faith. It
seemed to Richard that in his profession, as well as in his love affair,
he was no longer meeting life with a direct glance.

He rose and went on. He must find Eve. He had promised and yet in that
moment he knew that he did not want to see her. He wanted his mother's
touch, her understanding, her love. He wanted Crossroads and big Ben--and
the people who, because of his grandfather, had called him--"friend."

He found Anne and Geoffrey and Marie-Louise by the fountain at the end of
the grass walk. Marie-Louise perched on the rim was, in her pale green
gown, like some nymph freshly risen. Her hat was off, and her red hair
caught the sunlight.

Anne was reading the first chapter of Geoffrey's new book. He sat just
above her on the steps of the fountain. His glasses were off, and as he
looked down at her his eyes showed a brilliancy which seemed to
contradict his failing sight.

Marie-Louise held up a warning finger. "Sit down," she said, "and listen.
It is such a wonder-book, Dr. Dicky."

So Richard sat down and Anne went on reading. She read well; her voice
had a thrilling quality, and once it broke.

"Oh, why did you make it so sad?" she said.

"Could I make it glad?" he asked, and to Richard, watching, there came
the jealous certainty that between the two of them there was some subtle
understanding.

When at last Anne had read all that he had written Marie-Louise said,
importantly, "Anne is the heroine, the Princess who serves. Will you ever
make me the heroine of a book, Geoffrey Fox?"

"Perhaps. Give me a plot?"

"Have a girl who loves a marble god--then some day she meets a man--and
the god is afraid he will lose her, so he wakes to life and says, 'If you
love this man, you will have to accept the common lot of women, you will
have to work for him and obey him--and some day he will die and your soul
will be rent with sorrow. But if you love me, I shall be here when you
are forgotten, and while you live my love will demand nothing but the
verses that you read to me and the roses that lay at my feet.'"

Geoffrey gave her an eager glance. "Jove, there's more in that than a
joke. Some day I shall get you to amplify your idea."

"I'll give it to you