within me is the capacity to conquer all these
diverse natures and temperaments, to weld them together in a common
desire, the desire to show thankfulness for what a man has been able to
give them!" And he had thrilled for the first time with a fierce new
longing, the longing for the best that is meant by fame.

This longing persisted now.

Heath had left Mrs. Mansfield and Charmian under the arcade of the Opera
House, after putting them into their car. The crush coming out had been
great. They had had to wait for nearly half an hour in the vestibule.
During that time the Mansfields had talked to many friends. Charmian
had completely regained her composure. She had introduced Heath to
several people, among others to Kit and Margot Drake, who spoke of
nothing but the opera and its composer and Annie Meredith. The vestibule
was full of the voices of praise. Everybody seemed unusually excited.
Paul Lane had actually come up to them with beads of perspiration
standing on his forehead, and his eyes shining with excitement.

"This is a red-letter night in my life," he had said. "I have felt a
strong and genuine emotion. There's a future for music, after all, and a
big one. If only there were one or two more Jacques Senniers!"

Even then Charmian had not looked again at Heath. She had answered
lightly.

"Perhaps there are. Who knows? Even Monsieur Sennier was practically
unknown four hours ago."

"There are not many parts of the civilized world in which his name will
be unknown in four days from now," said Paul Lane, "or even in
twenty-four hours. I'm going to meet him and his wife at supper at
Adelaide Shiffney's, so I must say good-night--oh, and good-night, Mr.
Heath."

Oh--and good-night, Mr. Heath.

Claude had walked all the way home alone slowly. He had passed through
Piccadilly Circus, through Regent Street, through Oxford Street, along
the north side of the closed and deserted Park on which the faint
moonlight lay. When he reached his door he had not gone in. He had
turned, had paced up and down. The sight of a very large policeman
looking attentive, then grimly inquiring, then crudely suspicious, had
finally decided him to enter his house.

What was life going to do to him if he did not hold back, did not
persist any longer in his mania for refusal? There was a new world
spread out before him. He stood upon its border. He wanted to step into
it. But something within him, something that seemed obscure, hesi