do want particularly to have another go at him. I've been thinking him
over, and I'm afraid in some ways he won't quite wash. And that reminds
me, did you read the poor chap?'

'I just grubbed through a page or two; but most of my French was left at
school. What I did do, though, was to show the book to an old friend
of ours--my wife's and mine--just to skim--a Mr Bethany. He's an old
clergyman--our vicar, in fact.'

Herbert had sat down, and with eyes slightly narrowed was listening with
peculiar attention. He smiled a little magnanimously. 'His verdict, I
should think, must have been a perfect joy.'

'He said,' said Lawford, in his rather low, monotonous voice, 'he said
it was precious poor stuff, that it reminded him of patchouli; and that
Sabathier--the print I mean--looked like a foxy old roue. They were, I
think, his exact words. We were alone together, last night.'

'You don't mean that he simply didn't see the faintest resemblance?'

Lawford nodded. 'But then,' he added simply, 'whenever he comes to see
me now he leaves his spectacles at home.'

And at that, as if at some preconcerted signal, they both went off into
a simple shout of laughter, unanimous and sustained.

But this first wild bout of laughter over, the first real bursting of
the dam, perhaps, for years, Lawford found himself at a lower ebb than
ever.

'You see,' he said presently, and while still his companion's face was
smiling around the remembrance of his laughter like ripples after the
splash of a stone, 'Bethany has been absolutely my sheet-anchor right
through. And I was--it was--you can't possibly realise what a ghastly
change it really was. I don't think any one ever will.'

Herbert opened his hand and looked reflectively into its palm before
allowing himself to reply. 'I wonder, you know; I have been wondering a
good deal; simply taking the other point of view for a moment; WAS it?
I don't mean "ghastly" exactly (like, say, smallpox, G.P.I,
elephantiasis), but was it quite so complete, so radical, as in the
first sheer gust of astonishment you fancied?'

Lawford thought on a little further. 'You know how one sees oneself in
a passion--why, how a child looks--the whole face darkened and drawn and
possessed? That was the change. That's how it seems to come back to me.
And something, somebody, dodging behind the eyes. Yes; more that than
even any excessive change of feature, except, of course, that I also
seemed--Shall I ever forge