"I wouldn't let
Josephine live out these best days of her life in sorrow. I wouldn't have
her insulted and peered at, every hour of her life. I wouldn't see her
living in torture, when all the time she has such a wonderful capacity
for life and love. Do you know what I'd do, Mr. Wingate?"

"What would you do?" he asked.

"I'd take her away! I wouldn't care about anybody else or anything. If
the world didn't approve, I'd make a little world of my own and put her
in it. You're quite strong enough."

He looked through the walls of the room, for a minute.

"Yes, I am strong enough," he agreed, "but is she?"

"Why do you doubt her?" Sarah demanded. "What has she in her present life
to lose, compared with what she gains from you--what she wants more than
anything else in the world--love?"

He made no answer. The girl's words had thrilled him. Then the door swung
open and Jimmy appeared, very pink and white, very immaculate, and
looking rather more helpless than usual.

"I say, Sarah," he exclaimed, "it's no use! There's a most infernal block
down in the courtyard. Chap wanted me to push the taxi out into the
street. It's cost me all the loose change I've got to stop his sending
for a policeman. We'll have to do a scoot."

Sarah sighed as her host arranged her cloak around her.

"Sorry we couldn't have stayed a little longer," she said. "Mr. Wingate
was just getting most interesting."

"You'll have a drink before you go, Wilshaw?" Wingate insisted.
"Say when."

The young man accepted the whisky and soda and promptly disposed of it.

"Thanks, old chap! Frightfully sorry to rush away like this, but that
fellow downstairs means business."

"Good night, Mr. Wingate," Sarah said, holding out her hand, "and
thanks ever so much for the evening. You don't think I'm a forward
little minx, do you?"

"I think you're a sensible little dear," he assured her, "far too good
for Jimmy."

"Sorry I accepted your hospitality, if that's how you're feeling," Jimmy
grunted. "By the by, you haven't a few cigarettes, have you, for me to
smoke while Sarah tries to get me safely home?"

Wingate held out the box.

"Fill your case," he invited; "your pockets, too, if you like. Don't
forget, both of you, luncheon at one-thirty to-morrow in the restaurant.
Good night!"

He stood with the door open, watching them go down the corridor. Then he
came slowly back into his room. Once more the telephone bell began to
ring. He picked up the