ame with a rush of warm west wind, sunshine, and the
perfume of blossoming flowers. The chestnuts where out at the Park fully
a week before their time, and already through the great waxy buds the
colour of the coming rhododendrons was to be seen in sheltered corners
of the Park. London put out its window boxes, and remembered that it
had, after all, for two short months a place amongst the beautiful
cities of the world. 'Bus conductors begun to whistle, and hansom cab
drivers to wear a bunch of primroses in their coats. Kingston Brooks,
who had just left his doctor, turned into the Park and mingled idly with
the throng of people.

For the first time for many months he suffered his thoughts to travel
over a wider range than usual. The doctor's words had been sharp and to
the point. He must have instant change--change, if not of scene, at
least of occupation. Scarcely to be wondered at, Brooks thought to
himself, with a faint smile, when he thought of the last twelve months,
full to the brim of strenuous labour, of ceaseless striving within a
herculean task. Well, he was in smoother waters now. He might
withdraw his hand for a while, if necessary. He had gone his way, and
held his own so far against all manner of onslaught. Just then he heard
himself called by name, and, looking up, found himself face to face
with Sybil Caroom.

"Mr. Brooks! Is it really you, then, at last?"

He set his teeth hard, but he could not keep the unusual colour from
his cheeks.

"It is really I, Lady Sybil. How do you do?"

Sybil was charming in a lilac-coloured dress and hat as fresh and dainty
as her own complexion. She looked straight into his eyes, and told him
that he ought to be ashamed of himself.

"Oh, it's not the least use your looking as though you were going to
edge away every moment," she declared, laughing. "I am going to keep
you for quite a long time, and make you tell me about everything."

"In which case, Lady Sybil," her escort remarked, good-humouredly, "you
will perhaps find a better use for me at some future time."

"How sweet of you," she answered, blandly. "Do you know Mr. Brooks?
Mr. Kingston Brooks, Lord Bertram. Mr. Brooks is a very old friend,
and I have so many questions I want to ask him."

Lord Bertram, a slim, aristocratic young man, raised his hat, and
glanced with some interest at the other man.

"The Mr. Kingston Brooks of the East End? Lavvy's friend?" he asked,
politely.

Brooks smiled.

"I a