ainst some obstinate world of opposition, and the whole of life had
meanwhile stayed to watch the issue.

A thin pale light from some street lamp lay, a faintly golden shadow,
across the white ceiling.

Maggie stood by the door.

"I've come to say good-night, aunt."

"Ah, Maggie dear, is that you?" The pale oval face turned towards her.

"You won't be very late, will you?"

"Hadn't I better have a key, not to bother Martha?"

"Oh, Martha won't have gone to bed."

Maggie felt as though her whole evening would be spoilt did she know
that Martha was waiting for her at the end of it.

"Oh, but it will be such a pity--"

"Martha will let you in, dear. Come and kiss me; I hope that you'll
enjoy yourself."

And then the strangest thing happened. Maggie bent down. She felt a
tear upon her cheek and then the thin strong arms held her, for an
instant, in an almost threatening embrace.

"Good-night, dear aunt," she said; but, outside the room, she had to
stand for a moment in the dark passage to regain her control; her heart
was beating with wild unreasoning terror. Although she had brushed her
cheek with her hand the cold touch of the tears still lingered there.

Outside the house they were free. It looked so close and dark behind
them that Maggie shivered a little and put her arm through her uncle's.

"That's all right," he said, patting her hand. "We're going to enjoy
ourselves."

She looked up and saw Martin Warlock facing her. The unexpected meeting
held both of them silent for a moment. To her it seemed that he had
risen out of the very stones of the pavement, at her bidding, to make
her evening wonderful. He looked so strong, so square, so solid after
the phantom imaginations of the house that she had left, that the sight
of him was a step straight into the heart of comfort and reassurance.

"I was just coming," he said, looking at her, "to leave a note for Miss
Cardinal--from my father--"

"She's in," Maggie said.

"Oh, it wasn't to bother her--only to leave the note. About some
meeting, I think."

"We're just going out. This is my uncle--Mr. Warlock."

The two men shook hands.

Mathew Cardinal smiled. His eyes closed, his greeting had an urgency in
it as though he had suddenly made some discovery that gratified and
amused him. "Very glad to meet you--very glad, indeed, sir. Any friend
of my niece's. I know your father, sir; know him and admire him."

They all turned down the street together. Un