the course of events with deep interest," he said,
striving as he spoke to fight down that unworthy sensation of envy of
another's superior equipment for the battle of life. "Of course I will
keep my own counsel; and in a few days at latest you should know whether
your enemy intends to strike again."

"It is very good of you to take an interest in the horrible affair."
Anstice was really grateful. "Must you go? You haven't given me much of
your company to-night."

"I must go--yes." His smile robbed the words of any discourtesy. "But
don't forget to call upon me if you want any help. And for the sake of
all concerned, but especially, if I may say so, for the sake of the poor
lady at Cherry Orchard, I trust you may be able to clear the matter up
for all the world to see."

"It is chiefly for Mrs. Carstairs' sake that I intend to do so,"
returned Anstice briefly. "Personally I don't care what may be said
about me; but I don't mean Mrs. Carstairs to be victimized further. And
if it costs me every penny I've got in the world the writer of these
letters shall be brought to book!"

And Fraser Carey agreed, mentally, with Sir Richard's estimation of Mrs.
Carstairs' new champion. But he went further than Sir Richard, in that
he found occasion to wonder whether after all this unexpected and
unwelcome repetition of the former anonymous campaign which had
convulsed Littlefield might not in the end prove the salvation of the
man against whom it was presumably directed.

Unlike Sir Richard, Carey was an observer of men, a student of human
nature, and he had not failed to notice the increased alertness which
had characterized Anstice this evening as he discussed the situation.
The rather bitter, indifferent look which generally clouded his face had
lifted, giving way to a brighter, more open expression; and the half
melancholy cynicism which Carey had deplored had vanished before the
eager determination to see an innocent and wronged woman righted in the
eyes of the world.

"The man has brooded so long over what he considers to be an injustice
of God that he has lost, temporarily, his sense of proportion," said
Carey to himself as he trudged, rather wearily, homeward. "But if he
devotes himself, as he seems anxious to do, to the service of a woman
who has suffered an equal injustice, though at the hands of man this
time, possibly he will forgot his own bitterness in the contemplation of
her marred life. And God, who is the God