sh determination to shape his life
henceforth to his own design, if indeed strength of purpose and a
relentless lack of consideration for any other living being could
compass such an end.

Fate had beaten him once. He was determined such victory should be
final; and during the last few years Bruce Cheniston had been known as a
man who invariably achieved his object in whatever direction such
achievement lay--a man of whom his friends prophesied that he would
surely go far; while his enemies, a small number, certainly, for on the
whole he was popular, labelled him ruthless in the pursuit of his
particular aims.

Perhaps he was not to blame for the metamorphosis which followed Hilda
Ryder's death. For the first time he had loved a human being better than
himself; so that the reaction which fell upon his spirit when he
realized that his love was no longer needed was in its very nature
severe.

Never again would he rise to the height of greatness to which his love
for Hilda Ryder had raised him; and whatever the quality of any
affection he might in future bestow upon a woman, the spark of
immortality, of selflessness, which had undoubtedly inspired his first
and truest love, would never again be kindled in his heart.

Yet in his way Bruce was attracted to Iris Wayne. On their last meeting
she had been a little schoolgirl, a pretty creature, certainly, but not
to be compared with the beautiful and gracious Hilda, to whom he was
newly betrothed. Yet now, on meeting her again, he was bound to confess
that Iris was wonderfully attractive; and in a strangely short period of
time he came, by imperceptible degrees, to look upon her as a possible
successor to the woman he had lost.

The fact that Anstice too found her desirable was stimulating. One of
Cheniston's newly-acquired characteristics was a tendency to covet any
object on which another had set his heart; and although in matters of
business this trait was possibly excusable enough, in this instance it
seemed likely to prove fatal to Anstice's happiness.

* * * * *

Which of the two men Iris herself preferred it would have taken a
magician to understand.

With Bruce she was always her gayest self, plying him with eager
questions concerning his life in Egypt; and she was quite evidently
flattered by the pains he took to charm and interest her with his
picturesque narratives of experiences in the land of the Nile. He was,
moreover, at