exquisite. Now, having naively confessed her dreams, her sudden
confusion was lovable.

"I scarcely know," declared Paul. "I scarcely know why I have come at
such an hour. It is not fair to you, and it is not practising what I
preach."

"Please come in. You are welcome at any time, and as nobody will see you
there can be no harm done."

Paul entered and stood looking vaguely at the parcel which he carried.
It contained the manuscript of _The Key_. Thus reminded of its presence
he found himself wondering why since he had forgotten that he carried
it, he had not absently left it behind somewhere during his aimless
wanderings. He laid it with his hat on the open bureau. The little
apartment had assumed very marked individuality. Many delightful
sketches and water-colour drawings ornamented the walls and a delicate
pastel study of Dovelands Cottage hung above the famous clock on the
mantelpiece. Paul crossed and examined this picture closely.

"Who is living in Dovelands Cottage now, Flamby?" he asked. "I believe
Nevin told me that it had been sold."

Flamby turned aside to take up a box of cigarettes.

"Don bought it," she said slowly. "I don't know why he didn't want you
to know, but he asked me not to tell you."

Paul continued to stare at the picture, until Flamby spoke again. "Will
you have a cigarette?" she asked, her voice low and monotonous.

"No, thank you very much."

"I can make coffee in a minute."

"Please don't think of it."

Through the little mirror immediately below the pastel Flamby studied
Paul covertly. He had aged; all the beauty of his face resided now in
his eyes. Two years had changed him from a young and handsome man to one
whose youth is left behind, and who from the height of life's pilgrimage
looks down sadly but unfalteringly into a valley of shadows. He turned
to her.

"Mrs. Chumley?"

"I was with her this morning. She is staying for a while at the cottage.
I think she is nearly broken-hearted. From the time that his mother
died, when Don was very little, Mrs. Chumley looked after him until he
went away to school. You know, don't you? But she is so brave. I wish,"
said Flamby, her voice sunken almost to a whisper, "I wish I could be as
brave ..." She sat down on the settee, biting her lower lip and striving
hard to retain composure.

"You are very brave indeed, and very loyal," answered Paul, but he did
not approach her where she sat. "You have taught me that there are women