arks an epoch in the
life of every man who arrives at it, that world-celebrated persons
are very like other persons. And he was happy and rather proud in this
discovery, and began to feel a certain vague desire to tell Mr.
Seven Sachs the history of his career--or at any rate the picturesque
portions of it. For he too was famous in his own sphere; and in the
drawing-room of Wilkins's one celebrity was hob-nobbing with another!
("Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Mr. Brindley!") Yes, he
was happy, both in what he had already accomplished, and in the
contemplation of romantic adventures to come.

And yet his happiness was marred--not fatally but quite
appreciably--by a remorse that no amount of private argument with
himself would conjure away. Which was the more singular in that
a morbid tendency to remorse had never been among Edward Henry's
defects! He was worrying, foolish fellow, about the false
telephone-call in which, for the purpose of testing Rose Euclid's
loyalty to the new enterprise, he had pretended to be the new private
secretary of Sir John Pilgrim. Yet what harm had it done? And had it
not done a lot of good? Rose Euclid and her youthful worshipper were
no worse off than they had been before being victimized by the deceit
of the telephone-call. Prior to the call they had assumed themselves
to be deprived for ever of the benefits which association with Sir
John Pilgrim could offer, and as a fact they were deprived for ever of
such benefits. Nothing changed there! Before the call they had had no
hope of lunching with the enormous Sir John on the morrow, and as a
fact they would not lunch with the enormous Sir John on the morrow.
Nothing changed there, either! Again, in no event would Edward Henry
have joined the trio in order to make a quartet in partnership. Even
had he been as convinced of Rose's loyalty as he was convinced of her
disloyalty, he would never have been rash enough to co-operate with
such a crew. Again, nothing changed!

On the other hand, he had acquired an assurance of the artiste's
duplicity, which assurance had made it easier for him to disappoint
her, while the prospect of a business repast with Sir John had helped
her to bear the disappointment as a brave woman should. It was true
that on the morrow, about lunch-time, Rose Euclid and Carlo Trent
might have to live through a few rather trying moments, and they would
certainly be very angry; but these drawbacks would have been more tha