ar pathetically large and worn. There was a listlessness
in her expression which was strangely different from the vivacious,
self-confident Margot of a few weeks ago.

"Yes, I spoke about you one day. He liked you, because you were so fond
of Jack. He was in love himself, and the girl died, but he loves her
still, just the same. He tries to help other girls for her sake. He
said he wanted to know you. If it were ever in his power to help you
and Jack, he would do it; but sometimes no one can help. It makes
things worse when they try. You might just as well give up at once."

"Margot! What heresy, dear! From you, too, who are always preaching
courage and perseverance! That's pneumonia croaking, not the gallant
little champion of the family! What would Ron and I have done without
you this last year, I should like to know? Isn't it nice to see father
and the boy on such good terms? I believe that also is in a great
degree due to Mr Elgood's influence. The pater told me that he
congratulated him on having such a son, and seemed to think Ron quite
unusually gifted. It is wonderful how much one man thinks of another
man's judgment! We have said the same thing for years past, and it has
had no effect; but when a calm, level-headed man of business drops a
word, it is accepted as gospel. You will be happy, won't you, darling,
if Ron's future is harmoniously arranged?"

"Ron will be happy!" said Margot shortly. At the moment it seemed to
her as if such good fortune could never again be her own. She must
always be miserable, since George Elgood cared so little for her that he
could disappear into space and leave her without a word. Formal
messages sent through another person did not count, when one recalled
the tone of the voice which had said, "_Margot_!" and blushed at the
remembrance of that other word which had followed.

Sometimes, during those long days of convalescence, Margot almost came
to the conclusion that what she had heard had been the effect of
imagination only; as unreal and dream-like as the other events of that
fateful afternoon. At other times, as if in contradiction of these
theories, every intonation of the Editor's voice would ring in her ears,
and once again she would flush and tremble with happiness.

At last the day arrived when the return to town need no longer be
delayed. Mr Vane was anxious to return to his work, Edith to her
husband and children; and the doctor pronounced Mar