immediate uses.

"Dear, sweet Helen--she was the best of the lot--none were as sweet
as she. Well, after all, it isn't so strange when one thinks of
it--she hadn't a relation in the world. I must see her grave. I'll
put a beautiful marble tomb over her; and when I'm in Berkshire I'll
go there every day with flowers."

Then a shocking thought appeared in his mind. Accustomed to analyse
all sentiments, he asked his soul if he would give up all she had
given him to have her back in life; and he took courage and joy when
the answer came that he would. And delighted at finding himself
capable of such goodness, he walked in a happier mood. His mind hung
all day between these two women--while he paid the rent that was
owing there in Temple Gardens; while he valued the furniture and
fixtures. He valued them casually, and in a liberal spirit, and wrote
to Frank offering him seven hundred pounds for the place as it stood.
"It is not worth it," he thought, "but I'd like to put the poor
fellow on his legs."

Where should he dine? He wanted distraction, and unable to think of
any better relief, he turned into Lubi's for a merry dinner. The
little gilt gallery was in disorder, Sally Slater having spent the
afternoon there. Her marquis was with her; her many admirers
clustered about the cigarette-strewn table, anxious to lose no word
of her strange conversation. One drunkard insisted on telling
anecdotes about the duke, and asking the marquis to drink with him.

"I tell you I remember the circumstances perfectly--the duke wore a
gray overcoat," said drunkard No. 1.

"Get out! I tell you to get out!" cried drunkard No. 2. "Brave
Battlemoor, I say; long live Battlemoor! Have a drink?--I want
Battlemoor to drink with me."

"For God's sake have a drink with him," said Sally, "and then perhaps
he'll take another box for my benefit."

"What, another?"

"Only a guinea one this time; there's the ticket--fork out. And now I
must be off."

The street echoed with the porter's whistle, half a dozen cabs came
racing for these excellent customers, and to the Trocadero they went.
The acting manager passed them in. Mike, Sally, Marquis, and the
drunkards lingered in the bar behind the auditorium, and
brandies-and-sodas were supplied to them over a sloppy mahogany
counter. A woman screamed on the stage in green silk, and between the
heads of those standing in the entrance to the stalls, her open mouth
and an arm in black swede were seen