n't got a theory?" Michael asked.
"Hullo, you've got the Venetian mirror from Ararat House. I'm so glad!"

"I've arranged all that," Maurice said. "Lily Haden has gone to live
with a girl called Sylvia Scarlett. Rather a terror, I thought."

"Yes, I had an idea you'd find her a bit difficult."

"Oh, but I scored off her in the end," said Maurice quickly.

"Congratulations," said Michael. "Well, I'm going to Rome."

"I say, rather hot."

"So much the better."

"I used to be rather keen on Rome, but I've a theory it's generally a
disappointment. However, I suppose I shall have to go one day."

"Yes, I don't think Rome ought to miss your patronage, Maurice."

They parted as intimate friends, but while Michael was going downstairs
from the studio he thought that it might very easily be for the last
time.

His mother was at home for tea; lots of women and a bishop were having a
committee about something. When they had all rustled away into the
mellow June evening, Michael asked what had been accomplished.

"It's this terrible state of the London streets," said Mrs. Fane.
"Something has got to be done about these miserable women. The Bishop of
Chelsea has promised to bring in some kind of a bill in Parliament. He
feels so strongly about it."

"What does he feel?" Michael asked.

"Why, of course, that they shouldn't be allowed."

"The remedy lies with him," Michael said. "He must take them the
Sacraments."

"My dearest boy, what are you talking about? He does his best. He's
always picking them up and driving them home in his brougham. He can't
do more than that. Really he quite thrilled us with some of his
experiences."

Michael laughed and took hold of her hand.

"What would you say if I told you that I was thinking very seriously of
being a priest?"

"Oh, my dear Michael, and you look so particularly nice in tweeds!"

Michael laughed and went upstairs to pack. He would leave London
to-morrow morning.

CHAPTER X

THE OLD WORLD

The train crashed southward from Paris through the night; and when dawn
was quivering upon the meadows near Chambery Michael was sure with an
almost violent elation that he had left behind him the worst hardships
of thought. Waterfalls swayed from the mountains, and the gray torrents
they fed plunged along beside the train. Down through Italy they
traveled all day, past the cypresses, and the olive-trees wise and
graceful in the sunlight. It was already dusk when th