moved. "Poor Rip!" he said, almost under his breath. "I
know--now--what you must have felt--and I pity you----"

Keen, quite uncomprehending, followed the direction of his glance, and
remarked with polite jocularity--

"Looks as if he wanted a new suit of clothes rather badly, sir; doesn't
he, sir?"

Francis raised his head, and took the man's proffered arm; and as they
moved away he said slowly--

"I think, Keen, that it was more than a suit of clothes he
wanted--something much more than that."

CHAPTER XXII

FRIENDSHIP

"Where are they now--the friends I loved so well?
My outstretched hands clutch only empty air!
I call on those who loved me--Like a knell
The silence echoes to my question--Where?"

Isabella was sitting in her favourite place, a writing-board on her
knees, a pen in her hand. On a low table beside her lay a pile of
manuscript and several books, but the sheet of paper in front of her
was blank. She had intended to work, but for once her mind refused to
centre itself upon the task in hand. It was not often that she allowed
her thoughts to tempt her to idleness, for experience had taught her
that they were apt to lead far away from the straight grey road of the
Actual into the shadowy realms of Might-Have-Been, and along paths
paved with pain and bordered with regret.

But to-day as she sat there old memories crowded so thickly upon her
that she could not drive them back, old scenes appeared before her
mental vision blotting out the well-loved and familiar view of heath
and sky and sea. There seemed to be no particular reason why the past
should call to her so insistently to-day; there was, so far as she
knew, nothing to account for it, nothing had happened to remind her
particularly of the girlhood which lay so far behind her, and of bygone
days when the hours had been all too short for the joy they had
contained.

Since the day when Philippa had unfolded her plans for the future,
Isabella had relinquished all hope of seeing Francis again, and had
quietly schooled herself to accept the fact that in his life there was
no place for her. His health had been restored, as by a miracle, and
he remembered her existence, but that was all.

None but herself knew how greatly she had longed and hoped for the day
when his clouded mind would once more awake to the recollection of her
and of their friendship. How many times had she promised herself that
when the moment came he w