gar got up, slowly passed her; there was something
familiar in his walk. He turned so as to see her face in the light of a
gas-lamp. Then he took three quick steps towards her. Her heart was
already throbbing; she felt and yet did not know.

'Victoria,' said the man in a faint, far away voice.

Victoria gasped, put her hand on her heart, swaying on the seat. The man
sat down by her side and took her hand.

'Victoria,' he said again. There was in his voice a rich quality.

'Oh, Major Cairns, Major Cairns,' she burst out. And clasping his hand
between hers, she laid her face upon it. He felt all her body throb;
there were tears on his hands. A man of the world, he very gently lifted
up her chin and raised her to a sitting posture.

'There,' he said softly, still retaining her hands, 'don't cry, dear,
all is well. Don't speak. I have found you.'

With all the gentleness of a heavy man he softly stroked her hands.

CHAPTER XXV

TWO days later Victoria was floating in the curious ether of the
unusual. It was Sunday night. She was before a little table at one of
those concealed restaurants in Soho where blows fragrant the wind of
France. She was sitting in a softly cushioned arm chair, grateful to
arms and back, her feet propped up on a footstool. Before her lay the
little table, with its rough cloth, imperfectly clean and shining dully
with brittania ware. There were flowers in a small mug of Bruges
pottery; there was little light save from candles discreetly veiled by
pink shades. The bill of fare, rigid on its metal stem, bore the two
shilling table d'hote and the more pretentious a la carte. An immense
feeling of restfulness, so complete as to be positive was upon her. She
felt luxurious and at large, at one with the other couples who sat near
by, smiling, with possessive hands.

On the other side of the table sat Major Cairns. He had not altered very
much except that he was stouter. His grey eyes still shone kindly from
his rather gross face. Victoria could not make up her mind whether she
liked him or not. When she met him in the park he had seemed beautiful
as an archangel; he had been gentle too as big men mostly are to women,
but now she could feel him examining her critically, noting her points,
speculating on the change in her, wondering whether her ravaged beauty
was greater and her neck softer than when he last held her in his arms
off the coast of Araby.

Victoria had compacted for a quiet pla