nd him better than Rosamund had wished. He kept her telegram,
with the rest of the telegrams he had received on his departure; now and
then he looked at it, and wondered whether its wording was not the
least bit indelicate. It would surely have been wiser if Mrs. Clarke had
omitted the opening six words. They conveyed a reproach; they conveyed,
too, a curious suggestion of will power, of quiet persistence. When
he read them Dion seemed to feel the touch--or the grip--of Stamboul,
listless apparently, yet not easily to be evaded or got rid of.

That telegram caused him to wonder whether he had made a really strong
impression upon Mrs. Clarke, such as he had not suspected till now,
whether she had not, perhaps, liked him a good deal more than she
liked most people. "May Allah have you and all brave men in His hand."
Worthington would have been glad to have had that message. Dion had
discovered that Worthington was half in love with Mrs. Clarke. He
chaffed Dion about Mrs. Clarke's telegram with a rather persistent
gaiety which did not hide a faint, semi-humorous jealousy. One day he
even said, "To him that hath shall be given. It's so like a woman to
sent her word of encouragement to the man who's got a wife to encourage
him, and to leave the poor beggar who's got no one out in the cold. It's
a cruel world, and three-quarters of the cruelty in it is the production
of women." He spoke with a smile, and the argument which followed was
not serious. They laughed and bantered each other, but Dion understood
that Worthington really envied him because Mrs. Clarke had thought of
him at the moment of departure. Perhaps he had been rather stupid in
letting Worthington know about her telegram. But Worthington had been
watching him; he had had the feeling that Worthington had guessed whom
the telegram was from. The matter was of no importance. If Mrs. Clarke
had cared for him, or if he had cared for her, he would have kept her
message secret; as they were merely acquaintances who no longer met
each other, her good wishes from a distance meant very little, merely
a kindly thought, for which he was grateful and about which no mystery
need be made.

Of course he must write a letter of thanks to Mrs. Clarke.

One day, after he had written to Rosamund, to Robin, to his mother, to
Beattie and to Bruce Evelin, Mrs. Clarke's turn came. His letter to her
was short and cheery, but he was slow in writing it. There was a noise
of men, a turmoil