which claimed her. No barrier
which human hand could rear could separate her from us so effectually
and irrevocably as the mere fact that she has taken up the position
which belongs to her. She is the Princess Isobel of Waldenburg, a king's
grandchild. And we are--what we are! Let me now make my confession to
you. I, too, loved her."

The two hands which held mine tightened for a moment their grasp. The
old "camaraderie" was established once more.

"It is I who was responsible for her coming," I continued. "It is only
fitting that I, too, should suffer. How she grew into our hearts you all
know. She has gone, and nothing can ever be the same. Yet I for one do
not regret it. I regret nothing! I am content to live with the memory of
these wonderful days she spent with us."

"And I!" Allan declared.

"And I!" Arthur echoed.

I wrung their hands, for it was a joy to me to feel that we had come
once more into complete accord.

"You know what sort of a state we were drifting into when she came," I
continued. "We were like thousands of others. We were rubbing shoulders,
hour by hour and day by day, with the world which takes no account of
beautiful things. She came and laid the magician's hand upon our lives.
We had perforce to alter our ways, to alter our surroundings, our
amusements, our ideals. Joy came with her, and pain may find a secret
place in our hearts now that she has gone, but I do not think that
either of us would willingly blot out from his life these last two
years. Would you, Arthur?"

"Not I!" he declared. "We had to learn ourselves to teach her. To chuck
the things that were rotten, anyhow, just because she was around. Jolly
good for us, too!"

"I agree with Arthur and you," Allan said. "I agree with all that you
have said. The child was dear to me too. So dear, that I do not think
that it would be easy to go back to our old life without her. That is
why----"

He glanced around the room. Our hands fell apart. I lit a cigarette and
looked at the open trunk.

"You are going away, Allan?"

He nodded.

"I'm off to Canada," he said. "I've an old uncle there who's worth
looking after, and he's always bothering me to pay him a visit. Right
time of the year, too--and hang it all, Arnold, I've sat here for a week
in front of an empty canvas, and I'd go to hell sooner than stand it any
longer!"

"And you, Arthur?"

"I have been appointed manager of our Paris Depot," Arthur answered a
little grandil