proportion to
the use they have made of their opportunities, not just in one life but
in other lives before."

Don nodded without speaking.

"A man who had come as near to perfection as is possible in this world
would have found his perfect mate, what Paul calls his 'Isis-self.'"

"Embodied, in Paul's case, in Yvonne."

"He would be in no doubt about it, and no more would she. If she was
below him he would raise her, if she was above him he might marry, but
he would not mistake another woman for the right one. And things that
convinced other men would not convince a true initiate. So I am worried
about Paul, because if he is not a true initiate, where did he learn the
things that are in _The Gates_?"

Don's face was very grave. "You have been studying strange books,
Flamby. What have you been reading?"

"Heaps of things." Flamby blushed. "I managed to get a Reader's ticket
for the British Museum. I am interested, you see. But there are things
in Paul's book and other things promised in the next which--oh!--I'm
afraid I can't explain----"

"You cannot account for such knowledge in an ordinary mortal, and
evidently something has occurred which has led you to regard Paul as
less than a god. Tell me about it, Flamby."

III

Don stood up, and walking across the room looked out of the window into
the quadrangle. The story of the Charleswood photographs, which Flamby
had related with many a pause and hesitance, had seemed to cast upon the
room a shadow--the shadow of a wicked hypocrite. Both were silent for
several minutes.

"And you are sure that Paul has seen these photographs?" said Don.

"You must have noticed the change in him yourself."

"I had noticed it, Flamby. I am afraid you are right. I will go down to
Devonshire to-night and----"

"You will not!"

Don turned, and Flamby, her face evenly dusky and her eyes very bright,
was standing up watching him. "Please don't be angry," she said
approaching him, "because I spoke like that. But I could never forgive
you if you told him. If he can think such a thing of me I don't care.
What have I ever said or done that he should _dare_ to think such a
thing!"

Don took both her hands and found that she was trembling. She looked
aside, biting her lower lip. In vain she sought to control her emotions,
knowing that they had finally betrayed her secret to this man in whose
steadfast eyes she had long ago read a sorrowful understanding. At that
moment she came