at John's silence, she began
to take pride in them, and shot glances at him from under half-closed
eyelids. John was sitting opposite with his arms folded. At the talk of
the men he felt his hands contract and his lips grow cold with the
feeling that Glory belonged to everybody now and was common property.
Once or twice he looked at them and became conscious of an impression,
which had floated about him since he left the Brotherhood, that nearly
every face he saw bore the hideous stamp of self-indulgence and
sensuality.

But the noises of the train helped him not to hear, and he looked out for
London. It lay before them under a canopy of smoke, and now and then a
shaft from the setting sun lit up a glass roof and it glittered like a
sinister eye. Then there came from afar, over the creaking and groaning
of the wheels and the whistle of the engine, the deep, multitudinous
murmur of that distant sea. The mighty tide was rising and coming up to
meet them. Presently they were dashing into the midst of it, and
everything was drowned in the splash and roar.

The Guardsmen, being on the platform side, alighted first, and on going
off they bowed to Glory with rather more than easy manners. A dash of the
devil prompted her to respond demonstratively, but John had risen and was
taking off his hat to the men, and they were going away discomfited.
Glory was proud of him--he was a man and a gentleman.

He put her into a hansom under the lamps outside the station, and her
face was lit up, but she patted the dog and said: "You have vexed me and
you needn't come to see me again. I shall not sing properly this evening
or sleep tonight at all, if that is any satisfaction to you, so you
needn't trouble to inquire."

* * * * *

When he reached home Mrs. Callender told him of a shocking occurrence at
the fashionable wedding at All Saints' that morning. A young woman had
committed suicide during the ceremony, and it turned out to be the poor
girl who had been dismissed from the hospital.

John Storm remembered Brother Paul. "I must bury her," he thought.

V.

Glory sang that night with extraordinary vivacity and charm and was
called back again and again. Going home in the cab she tried to live
through the day afresh--every step, every act, every word, down to that
triumphant "_I_ will." Her thoughts swayed as with the swaying of the
hansom, but sometimes the thunderous applause of the audience br