ixed her wondering eyes on
Doria. Her mother and I wondered even more than Susan, for we had more
reason. Of what manuscript, in heaven's name, were these the printed
proofs? Was it possible that I had been mistaken and that Jaffery, in
the assiduity of love, had made coherence out of Adrian's farrago of
despair?

Jaffery touched Doria's hand with his finger tips. She opened her eyes
and smiled wanly, and looked at the front slip of the long proofs. At
once she sat bolt upright.

"'_The Greater Glory_.' But that wasn't Adrian's title. His title was
'_God_.' Who has dared to change it?"

[Illustration: He drew out a great thick clump of galley-proofs.]

Her eyes flashed; her little body quivered. She flamed an incarnate
indignation. For some reason or other she turned accusingly on me.

"I knew nothing of the change," said I, "but I'm very glad to hear of it
now."

Many times before had I been forced to disclaim knowledge of what
Jaffery had been doing with the book.

"Wittekind wouldn't have the old title," cried Jaffery eagerly. "The
public are very narrow minded, and he felt that in certain quarters it
might be misunderstood."

"Wittekind told dear Adrian that he thought it a perfect title."

"Our dear Adrian," said I, pacifically, "was a man of enormous
will-power and perhaps Wittekind hadn't the strength to stand up against
him."

"Of course he hadn't," exclaimed Doria. "Of course he hadn't when Adrian
was alive: now Adrian's dead, he thinks he is going to do just as he
chooses. He isn't! Not while I live, he isn't!"

Jaffery looked at me from beneath bent brows and his eyes were turned to
cold blue steel.

"Hilary!" said he, "will you kindly tell Doria what we found on Adrian's
blotting pad--the last words he ever wrote?"

What he desired me to say was obvious.

"Written three or four times," said I, "we found the words: 'The Greater
Glory: A Novel by Adrian Boldero.'"

"What has become of the blotting pad?"

"The sheet seemed to be of no value, so we destroyed it with a lot of
other unimportant papers."

"And I came across further evidence," said Jaffery, "of his intention to
rename the novel."

Doria's anger died away. She looked past us into the void. "I should
like to have had Adrian's last words," she whispered. Then bringing
herself back to earth, she begged Jaffery's pardon very touchingly.
Adrian's implied intention was a command. She too approved the change.
"But I'm so jealous," s