an't say any more; I needn't say any more. Now, you
understand that it's all right. Do you remember our walk home from
the concert that night, and how I said, 'I want to get into the
light, the real light'? Well, I'm in it, and how I wish that you
and every one else could be in it too! Forgive my egoism. Write to
me at this address when you have time. Come to the Nile when next
you take a holiday, and, with many messages from us both,

"Believe us

"Your friends,
"N. A. and R. A.

"I sign for her. She's still in the garden, where I'm just going."

A letter of success. A letter subtly breathing out from every line the
message, "You were wrong." A letter of triumph, devoid of the cruelty
that triumph often holds. A letter, surely, for a true friend to rejoice
in?

Meyer Isaacson held it for a long while in his hands, forgetful of the
tea that was standing at his elbow.

The day was dark and grim, a still, not very cold, but hopeless day of
the dawning year. And he, was he not holding sunshine? The strange
thing was that it did not warm him, that it seemed rather to add a
shadow to London's dimness.

Mrs. Armine without a maid! He scarcely knew why, but that very small
event, the dismissal of a maid, seemed almost to bristle up at him out
of his friend's letter. He knew smart women well, and he knew that the
average smart woman would rather do without the hope of Heaven than do
without her maid. Mrs. Armine must have changed indeed since she was
Mrs. Chepstow. Could she have changed so much? Do people of mature age
change radically when an enthusiastic influence is brought to bear upon
them?

All day long Isaacson was pondering that question.

Nigel was knocking at a door. Had it opened to him? Would it ever open?
He thought it would. Probably he thought it had.

He and his wife were going away to be together "in all the delicious
out-of-the-way places on the Nile," and they were "happier than most
people"--even than most people in the region of gold.

And yet two sons had been born to Lord Harwich, and Nigel had been cut
out of the succession!

When he had read that news, Isaacson had wondered what effect it would
have in the _menage_ on the Nile--how the greedy woman would bear it.

Apparently she had borne it well. Nigel did not even mention it.

And the departure of that maid! Mrs. Armine without a maid! Again that
night as Isaacson sat alone reading N