from its scabbard and laid it across his knee. He
felt its edge; he drew his finger down the long groove that ran along the
center of the blade; his gaze rested almost passionately on the floral
arabesque that fringed that bed of the river of blood. Not a spot of rust
from hilt to point; the scabbard, too, was bright and clean.

He held up the sword, still looking at it with the eyes of a lover; a
quick turn of his wrist, and it leapt and flashed in the sun.

He turned to his wife, smiling. "Isn't she a beauty?" said he.

Fear gripped her heart. She may have had shadowy notions of Tyson's
conjugal infidelities, but she had a very clear idea of the power of her
rival, the sword. She did not know that he was merely moved by the spirit
of Henley's verse.

"Take it away," she said; "I don't like the look of it."

"Well, it's not a nice thing to have hanging over your head."

He took it away and hung it in its old place in the dining-room.

And Mrs. Nevill Tyson was content. Though there was not a sign or a hope
that her beauty would be restored to her, she was content. What was more,
she was positively glad that it was gone, regarding the loss of it as the
ransom for Tyson's soul.

She was growing stronger every day now, and they were full of plans for
their future. No attempt had been made to repair the damage done by the
fire. It was settled--so far as anything was settled--that they were to
let the flat, let Thorneytoft too, and go away from London, from England
perhaps, to some Elysium to be agreed on by them both. It was to be a
second honeymoon--or was it a third? There was nothing like beginning all
over again from the very beginning. They talked of the Riviera.

In three weeks' time from the date of the fire she was well enough to be
moved into the dining-room. Nevill carried her. They had to go through
the empty drawing-room, and as they passed they stopped and looked round
the desolate place. It struck them both that this was the scene of that
terrible last act of the drama of the old life.

"When we've once gone we will never, never come back again," she said.

"No. We burnt our ships in that blaze, Moll. Do you mind very much?"

"No. I shall never want to see it again. In our new house we won't have
anything to remind us of this."

"No, we'll have everything brand new, won't we?"

"Yes, brand new." She looked round her and smiled. "But it seems a little
sad, don't you think? It _was_ a pretty room