.

"My troubles are so much lighter than those of the people I know, I
can't think of them. So many of my friends and patients have given up
in this panic. So many have died for the lack of bread. I'll let you
know if I'm in trouble myself."

He paused and pressed Stuart's hand.

"I'm glad you asked me. The sun will shine brighter to-day. I must
hurry."

With a swing of his stalwart form and a generous wave of his hand he
was gone.

When Stuart reached the Drive he alighted and walked slowly toward the
Bivens palace. He had never been there before. He had always avoided
the spot. He smiled now at the childishness of his attitude toward Nan.
It seemed incredible that a sane man should taboo one of the most
beautiful spots in the city, merely because a woman lived in the
neighbourhood who once professed her love to him.

He paused in front of the block on which the millionaire's house stood,
amazed at the perfection of its detail, and above all amazed at the
impression of homelike comfort and friendly hospitality which it gave.
He had expected an imposing front, whose effects would impress and
stun. He had not conceived the possibility of such a huge palace, set
so commandingly in the centre of a block amid trees and shrubbery and
iron picket fence, that it would suggest comfort and happiness. Yet the
impression was unmistakable. The friendly lights seemed to reprove him
for a long and foolish absence.

The full moon had just risen and flooded the Drive and park and river
with silvery mystery. He studied the effects of the building with
wonder and admiration. Evidently Bivens had given his architects a free
hand and they had wrought a poem in marble. The fact was they had an
easy task to persuade him. He had never boasted his culture or taste or
ancestry. He knew and keenly felt the humility of his early origin and
his one terror when he became rich was that he might be crude and
ridiculous before others. When he found that his architects were men of
genius he submitted to their guidance without a word.

So fascinated was Stuart with the beauty and perfection of the great
house he walked around the block before entering, viewing it from every
angle--always to find some new line shimmering in the moonlight that
held his eye and charmed his fancy.

What a strange thing, this medieval palace, standing in stately beauty
in the midst of the hideous, ugly uniformity of the most modern,
unromantic and materialistic c