find me or follow me. I know your
pride, dear, the greatest pride I ever saw or dreamed of. I wonder
if it is a right one. At any rate, it will not let you follow me; I
am sure of that. I wish to put between us an immeasurable distance,
one which no folly on your part and no weakness on mine could
bridge. Cedersholm has returned from Russia, and I told him last
night that I would marry him.--MARY."

Then, for the first time, Tony knew how he loved her. Crushing the
letter between his hands, he snatched up his hat and rushed out, took a
cab, and drove like mad to her house.

The little horse galloped with him, the driver cracked his whip with
utterances like the sparks flying, and they tore up the Champs Elysees,
part of the great multitude, yet distinct, as is every individual with
their definite sufferings and their definite joys.

Her house stood white and distinct at the back of the garden, the
windows were flung open. On the steps of the terrace a man-servant, to
whom Antony had given fat tips which he could not afford, stood in an
undress uniform, blue apron and duster over his arm; painters came out
with ladders and placed them against the wall. The old gardener,
Felicien, who had given him countless _boutonnieres_, mounted the steps
with a flower-pot in his hand and talked with the man-servant; he was
joined by two maids. The place was left, then, to servants. Everything
seemed changed. She might never--he was sure she would never--return as
Mrs. Faversham. Immeasurably far away indeed, as she said--immeasurably
far--she seemed to have gone into another sphere, and yet he had held
her in his arms! The thought of his tenderness was too real to permit of
any other consideration holding its place. He sprang out of his cab,
rang the door-bell, and when the door was opened he asked the surprised
servant for Mrs. Faversham's address.

"But I have no idea of it, monsieur," said the man with a comprehensive
gesture. "None."

"You are not sending any letters?"

"None, monsieur."

Fairfax's blue eyes, his pale, handsome face, appealed very much to
Ferdinand. He liked Monsieur Rainsford. Although the chap did not know
it himself, Tony had been far more generous than were the millionaires.
Ferdinand called one of the maids.

"Where's madame's maid stopping in London?" asked the butler.

"Why, at the Ritz," said Louise promptly. "She is always at the Ritz,
monsieur."

Tony had no mo