broke off, and laughed heartily at this conceit. But he laughed
alone.

"So, you see, he seems very cheerful," he said, as if it was the letter
that had laughed. He folded the paper and replaced it in his pocket. "He
seems to be getting on very well without you, you perceive," he added,
smiling at Wanda. But he lacked conviction. There was in his voice and
manner a dim suggestion of the losing game, consciously played.

"May I read the letter for myself?" asked Wanda, holding out her slim,
steady hand.

After a moment's hesitation, Deulin took the folded paper from his
pocket and handed it to her. Lady Orlay had returned to the group
standing near the fire. He turned and met her eyes, making an
imperceptible movement of his eyebrows, as of one who had made an
attempt and failed. They waited in silence while Wanda read the letter,
and at length she handed it back to him.

"Yes," she said, "I read it differently. It is not only the world which
appears differently to two different people, even a letter may have two
meanings to two readers. You shed a sort of gayety upon that----"

She indicated the letter which he still held in his hand, and Deulin
deprecated the suggestion by a shrug of the shoulders.

"--which is not really there. To me it is the letter of a broken-hearted
man," she added slowly. There was an odd pause, during which Wanda
seemed to reflect. She was at the parting of the ways. Even Deulin had
nothing to say. He could not point out the path. Perhaps Cartoner had
already done so by his own life, without any words at all.

"I shall go to Warsaw to-night," she said at last to Lady Orlay, "if
you will not think me wanting in manners. Believe me, I do not lack
gratitude. But--you understand?"

"Yes, dear, I understand," replied the woman who had known happiness.
And she closed her lips quickly, as if she feared that they might
falter.

"It is so clearly my duty, and duty is best, is it not?" said Wanda. As
she spoke she turned to Cartoner. The question was asked of none other.
It was unto his judgment that she gave her case; to his wisdom she
submitted the verdict of her life. She wished him to give it before
these people. As if she took a subtle pride in showing them that he was
what she knew him to be. She was sure of her lover; which is, perhaps,
happiness enough for this world.

"Duty is best, is it not?" she repeated.

"It is the only thing," he answered.

Deulin was the first to speak. He h