nderful affection. He spent a part of every day
with Elizabeth, and the remainder of his time was completely engrossed by
the work over which she, too, the presiding genius, pored eagerly.
Together they humoured many of Beatrice's whims, treating her very much
as an unexpected protegee, a position with which she seemed entirely
content. She made friends with the utmost facility. She wore new clothes
with frank and obvious joy. She preened herself before the looking-glass
of life, developed a capacity for living and enjoying herself which,
under the circumstances, was nothing less than remarkable.

And then came the climax of Philip's new-found happiness. His earnest
protests had long since been overruled, and certainly no one could have
accused him of posing for a single moment as the reluctant bridegroom.
The happiness which shone from their two faces seemed to brighten the
strangely unecclesiastical looking apartment, in which a cheerful and
exceedingly pleasant looking American divine completed the formalities of
their marriage. It was a queer little company who hurried back to
Elizabeth's room for tea--Elizabeth and Philip themselves, and Martha
Grimes and Beatrice sharing the attentions of Noel Bridges. For an
event of such stupendous importance, it was amazing how perfectly
matter-of-fact the two persons chiefly concerned were. There was only one
moment, just before they started for the theatre, when Elizabeth betrayed
the slightest signs of uneasiness.

"I sent a telegram, Philip," she said, "to Sylvanus Power. I thought I
had better. This is his answer."

Philip read the few typewritten words on the little slip of paper:

"You will hear from me within twenty-four hours."

Philip frowned a little as he handed it back. It was dated from
Washington.

"I think," Elizabeth faltered, "he might have sent his good wishes, at
any rate."

Philip laughed confidently.

"We have nothing to fear," he declared confidently, "from Sylvanus
Power."

"Nor from any one else in the world," Elizabeth murmured fervently.

Then followed the wonderful evening. Philip found Beatrice alone in the
stage box when he returned from taking Elizabeth to her dressing-room.

"Where's Martha?" he asked.

"Faithless," Beatrice replied. "She is in the stalls down there with a
young man from the box office. She said you'd understand."

"A serious affair?" Philip ventured.

Beatrice nodded.

"They are engaged. I had tea with them ye