ood-bye, all of you," said Rose. "I shall miss you--oh,
you don't know how I shall miss you all!"

She gathered the glances of her friends and her worshippers on her own
glance, as one gathers jewels on a silken string. The eyes of Edward
alone seemed to escape her.

"Em voiture, messieurs et dames."

Folk drew back from the train. There was a whistle. And then at the very
last little moment of all, as the train pulled itself together for the
start, her eyes met Edward's eyes. And the other man saw the meeting,
and he knew--which was more than Edward did.

So, when the light of life having been borne away in the retreating
train, the broken-hearted group dispersed, the other man, whose name by
the way was Vincent, linked his arm in Edward's and asked cheerily:
"Whither away, sweet nymph?"

"I'm off home," said Edward. "The 7.20 to Calais."

"Sick of Paris?"

"One has to see one's people sometimes, don't you know, hang it all!"
was Edward's way of expressing the longing that tore him for the old
house among the brown woods of Kent.

"No attraction here now, eh?"

"The chief attraction has gone, certainly," Edward made himself say.

"But there are as good fish in the sea----?"

"Fishing isn't my trade," said Edward.

"The beautiful Rose!----" said Vincent.

Edward raised hurriedly the only shield he could find. It happened to be
the truth as he saw it.

"Oh," he said, "of course, we're all in love with her--and all
hopelessly."

Vincent perceived that this was truth, as Edward saw it.

"What are you going to do till your train goes?" he asked.

"I don't know. Cafe, I suppose, and a vilely early dinner."

"Let's look in at the Musee Grevin," said Vincent.

The two were friends. They had been school-fellows, and this is a link
that survives many a strain too strong to be resisted by more intimate
and vital bonds. And they were fellow-students, though that counts for
little or much--as you take it. Besides, Vincent knew something about
Edward that no one else of their age and standing even guessed. He knew
that Edward was afraid of the dark, and why. He had found it out that
Christmas that the two had spent at an English country house. The house
was full: there was a dance. There were to be theatricals. Early in the
new year the hostess meant to "move house" to an old convent, built in
Tudor times, a beautiful place with terraces and clipped yew trees,
castellated battlements, a moat, swans, and a gho