ould be so much greater if they fought with honey, not with gall. ...
The world needs kindness--"

"Oh, it does! There is such sorrow, such pain!" Pixie's voice rang
suddenly sharp, and a wave of emotion flitted over her face. She raised
her eyes to his, and said suddenly, in a voice of melting pathos: "_Her
face_! ... That girl's face! All these years I've never forgotten. ...
It's lain _here_!" She touched her heart with an eloquent finger.
"All these years--every night--I've prayed that they might meet..." She
shook her head with a determined gesture, as though shaking off a
haunting thought. "I couldn't forget, you see, because--it taught me
... things I had not understood--!"

"Yes," said Stephen dully. For his life he could not have said another
word. He waited with dread to hear the next words.

"But it was _worth_ learning!" Pixie said bravely. "I was glad to
learn. Love is such a big, big thing. When it is given to you it's a
big responsibility. You must not fail; nothing in the world must make
you fail!"

Stephen said no word. The questions which had filled his brain for the
last five days were answered now. There was no more room for doubt.
Pixie O'Shaughnessy was ready and waiting to marry Stanor Vaughan at any
time when it pleased him to come home and claim her promise.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

A MUSICAL EVENING.

Pixie had recovered her spirits by the time that the flat was reached,
but the invalid was discovered in a distinctly "grumpy" mood. Like many
enforced stay-at-homes, his unselfishness bore him gallantly over the
point of speeding the parting guests, and expressing sincere good wishes
for their enjoyment. But the long, long hours spent alone, the contrast
between their lot and his own, the rebellious longing to be up and
doing, all these foes preyed upon the mind, and by the time that the
voyagers returned, a cool, martyr-like greeting replaced the kindliness
of the farewell, which was sad, and selfish, and unworthy, but let those
suspend their judgment who have never been tried!

"Really? Oh! _Quite_ well, thank you. Did you really?" ... The cold,
clipped sentences fell like ice on the listeners' ears, and Pixie, going
out of the room, turned a swift glance at Stephen Glynn, and wrinkled
her nose in an expressive grimace. Somehow or other Stephen felt his
spirits racing upward at sight of that grimace. There was a suggestion
of intimacy about it, amounting even