lation of the
close.

"Do you believe all that?" he asked suddenly, when she had finished. She
had not expected that.

"I didn't, but I do now."

"Why?" His eyes were fixed on hers, scrutinising, pathetic.

"Because I _must_."

That reason seemed to be hardly enough for Vincent. He was still
hesitating and uncertain, as if he were looking for something that she
could not give him. Then he lay back again with his eyes closed.

It was Katherine's turn to think. But Vincent's peace of mind was of
more importance to her than the truth or falsehood of a creed. She had
realised that there were things that even her love could not do for him.
With a sudden flash of recollection she thought of the young priest she
had once met at Audrey's house. If any one could help Vincent now, it
might be Mr. Flaxman Reed. She was probably mistaken (nobody is very
wise between twelve and one in the morning), but at least she could try.

"Vincent," she whispered, "would you like to see a clergyman?"

She smiled, for after all it might be the very last thing that he
wanted. He smiled too, a little consciously. His mood had changed for
the time being--he had come back again to earth.

"No; thank you, Sis. But I should like----"

"What? Tell me."

"To see--Audrey."

The three words gave her a shock, but they told her nothing new.

"You shall. I'll send for her first thing in the morning."

He turned round with his face away from her, and settled himself again
to sleep. And Katherine watched. He would be Audrey's to-morrow. He was
hers at least for that one night.

No--never, never again. To-morrow had come, and the image of Audrey was
between them. It always had been there.

Was it better so?

The next day Audrey had to be found. Ted went to Chelsea Gardens early
in the morning, supposing her to be there. The house was shut up, and
the caretaker had mislaid her address. He went back to Devon Street.
Katherine and Ted were in despair; Vincent alone was equal to the
emergency. His mind was on the alert--it had grasped all the necessary
details. He gave them Dean Craven's address, and told Ted to wire to
Oxford for Audrey's. That was how Audrey never got the telegram till one
o'clock.

That morning the doctor pronounced Vincent decidedly better. The change,
he said, was something miraculous. He took Katherine out of the room to
tell her so.

"Keep him quiet, and he _may_ pull through yet. I don't say he will,
but he may. On