one thing needful to make
your success in life secure. Her fortune will place you above the
necessity of struggling. You can paint as genius moves and give the
public only your best. She is beautiful; she loves you, is proud of you,
and knows the world, the world that may be yours, in every detail. She
is your ideal, my boy, your ideal, lost for a moment in the fog."

Thornly listened, and suddenly Janet's simile recurred to him: "It comes
to me just as Davy's Light comes of an early morning when the fog
lifts!" The memory brought a tugging of the heartstrings.

"You have scattered the fog, Mr. Devant," he answered. "I own I was in
rather a mist, but you bring things out most distinctly!"

"And you will not go to Katharine at once? You see I am presuming upon
old friendship and a sincere liking for you."

"I only wish there were a night train!" Thornly gave vent to a long,
relieved breath.

"You hold to your purpose, Dick? I feel that but for me this might not
have occurred. I should have restrained the child that day."

"I shall tell Katharine all, Mr. Devant. I am sure she will ask me to
release her from a tie that can be only galling for us both."

"You will be playing the fool, Dick,"--a note of anger rang in the deep
voice,--"a fool, and something worse. Gentlemen do not play fast and
loose with a woman like Katharine Ogden!"

"I am sorry you judge me so harshly." Thornly flushed. "I should hardly
think myself worthy the name of man, if I followed any other course. To
marry Katharine with this between us would be sheer folly. To refer to
it must in itself bring about the result I expect. I have no desire to
enter Katharine's world and she has no intention of adopting mine. She
has always believed I would use my success as a step to mount to her.
That her world is less than mine has never occurred to her."

"But if the girl loves you?"

"She does not love _me_. Had she loved me, she must have spoken
since--that day."

Mr. Devant arose uneasily and walked about the room, then he came back
and drew his chair close to Thornly's.

"Will you take a glass of my--wine?" he asked huskily.

Thornly was about to decline, but changed his mind.

"Thanks, I will," he said instead. And the two sipped the port together.

"Dick, this has shaken me a bit. I feel that I have an ignoble share in
the whole affair. I'm getting to be an old man; I can claim certain
privileges on that score, and if life means anything pas