our precious time with my old dream. I've hardly
spoken of you, and there's so much I want to know."

"We've plenty of time, darling. Think of it. Once we never knew
when--if, even, we should ever see one another again. Now ... Oh,
Anthony, we're very rich."

"I am," said Anthony, smiling. "And when you say you are--why, then I
feel like a king."

Valerie flung up her head. An instant, and she was singing....

"_If I were a queen,
What would I do?
I'd make you a king
And I'd wait upon you--
If I were a queen._"

Never melody knew such tenderness. Poor Anthony could not trust
himself to speak....

Valerie stooped and laid a soft cheek against his. Then she pressed
his hand to her lips.

The next moment she was gone.

* * * * *

When Sir Willoughby Sperm learned of his patient's progress, he struck
the words "Major Lyveden" out of his diary. The action cost him
exactly one hundred guineas, and the secretary by his side bit her lip.
To keep that Saturday free for his visit to Hampshire, she had refused
nine appointments. But, if he was a bad business man, Sperm was a good
doctor. Anthony was out of the wood. Very well. Considering the
nature of the peril with which the wood had been quick, the less the
fugitive saw of strange doctors, the better for him. To insist upon
the gravity of his late disorder was most undesirable. Besides, if at
this juncture a specialist's visit to Bell Hammer could serve any
useful purpose, Heron was the man to pay it. It was he who had walked
and talked with Lyveden when the latter's brain had been sick. So he
alone of the doctors could compare Philip drunk with Philip sober.
Happily no such comparison was necessary. Had it been vital, it could
not have been made. For the patient to renew the acquaintance of the
artist he had met at Gramarye--and that in the person of a
distinguished brain specialist--would hardly have conduced to his
health of mind. Indeed, from the moment that Anthony had reached Bell
Hammer in safety, so far as the inmates of that house were concerned,
the very name of Dr. Heron was, by his own advice, religiously
forgotten as though the man had never been. It was natural, however,
that one who had done so much to arrest the disorder should care to
hear how Anthony was faring. By a mutual arrangement the cherubic Dr.
Gilpin wrote to the former faithfully three times a week.

Similar, though less