me, Deena--without you life would
have had little flavor, but sometimes I fear that in the desire to
provide for your future I was not considerate enough of your present.
I ought to have been more mindful that young people need pleasure. You
will have to forgive that and many other mistakes." He looked at her
almost wistfully.

Deena's tears came, dripping plentifully over her clasped hands.

"It is I who should ask forgiveness," she said, humbly, remembering
how often she had scorned his economies. "The money is more than I
shall need--don't think of it again, Simeon. Isn't there anything you
want to tell me about your work--your book?"

His face lit up eagerly--the topic was congenial.

"My papers are safe," he said. "All the initial work of classification
and description that I did on the _Tintoretto_ is in French's keeping,
and he and Sinclair--the man who has my place--are going to edit the
book. We have had a great deal of talk about it on the way up,
whenever I had a fairly quiet day. It is idle to try to put into words
what I owe French."

"And he feels nothing but self-reproach for having urged you to go,"
said Deena, faintly. "Not that anyone could have foreseen the
miserable outcome."

"It isn't miserable!" Simeon answered, almost fiercely. "In many
respects it is all that I hoped. I have made a name for myself--there
will not be a scientific library in the world without my book, when
once it is issued. People have died for lesser achievements than
that." And then he added, more gently: "Not that it could be
considered as an achievement without French's aid."

His mind could not detach itself from its debt of gratitude, for he
suddenly broke out in passionate eulogy.

"He has sacrificed everything to me--his ambitions--his time--his
comfort--his money, though that is the last thing he would begrudge,
but you have no idea what it costs to run one of those large yachts!
It must have made an inroad even in his large fortune. He has been a
friend indeed!"

Deena turned away her face; it was hard for her to praise Stephen,
although her heart echoed her husband's words.

"He has high ideals in friendship as in everything else," she
answered, "but you must remember, Simeon, that the thought of your
sufferings agonized us at home. Who could have abandoned you to such a
fate? It makes me sick to think of it!"

A sort of shiver passed over him, while he said, simply:

"It was all in the day's work. Fren