rdyce, she would be so horrified were she to see me now. She tries so
hard to make me quite conventional, and she isn't able to do it.'

'She may be right, though,' said Walter, and though he would have given
worlds for the privilege, he dared not presume to take Gladys at her
word and offer her his arm. But they went into the dining-room side by
side; and at the table, Gladys, though watching keenly, detected very
little of the old awkwardness, none at all of that blunt rudeness of
speech and manner which had often vexed her sensitive soul. For the
first time for many many months Walter permitted himself to be at ease
and perfectly natural in his manner, and the result was entirely
satisfactory; self-consciousness is fatal to comfort always. Gladys wore
a black gown of some shimmering soft material, with a quaint frill of
old lace falling over the low collar, a bunch of spring snowdrops at her
belt, and her lovely hair bound with the black velvet band which none
could wear just in the same way--a very simple, unostentatious home
toilet, but she looked, Walter thought, like a queen. Possessed of a
wonderful tact, Gladys managed, while the meal progressed, to confine
the conversation to commonplace topics, so that the servant who attended
should not be furnished with food for remark. Both were glad, however,
to return to the drawing-room, where their talk could be quite
unrestrained.

'And now you are going to tell me everything about this wonderful
metamorphosis,' she said merrily,--'every solitary thing. When did it
dawn upon you that even a handsome man is utterly dependent on his
tailor?'

There was at once rebuke and approval conveyed in this whimsical speech,
which made Walter's face slightly flush.

'It dawned upon me one day, looking in at a shop window where I could
see myself, that I was a most disreputable-looking object, quite
eligible to be apprehended as an able-bodied vagrant.'

'How delightful! I hope the shock was very bad, because you deserved it.
Now that you have come back clothed and in your right mind, I am not
going to spare you, Walter, and I will say that after my last visit to
Colquhoun Street I quite lost hope. It is always the darkest hour before
the dawn, somebody has said.'

'If I'd thought you cared'--Walter began, but stopped suddenly; for
Gladys turned from the table, where she was giving her attention to some
drooping flowers, and her look was one of the keenest wonder and
reproac