wenty shillings in the pound before a couple of years have
gone, and do pretty well for Beatrice and myself as well. You wouldn't
care, I suppose," he added, as they stood there with locked hands, "to
offer us just a glass of wine before we start out? Beatrice has been
riddling me with questions and dragging me through the streets till I
scarcely know whether I am on my head or my heels."

Philip emptied the contents of the champagne bottle into the glasses.
Never was wine poured out more gladly.

"Douglas," he explained, "this is Miss Elizabeth Dalstan, whom you saw
act this evening. We were married this afternoon. You can understand,
can't you, just what your coming has meant for us?"

Douglas shook Elizabeth by the hand. Then he held up his glass.

"Here's the best of luck to you both!" he said heartily. "Very soon
Beatrice and I will ask you to wish us the same. Philip, old chap," he
added, as he set his glass down and without the slightest protest watched
it replenished, "that's a thundering good play of yours I've seen this
evening, but you'll never write one to beat this!"

Soon Beatrice and Douglas also took their departure. Elizabeth held out
her arms almost as the door closed. The tear-stains were still on her
cheeks. Her lips quivered a little, but her voice was clear and sweet and
passionate.

"Philip," she cried, "it's all over--it's all finished with--the dread,
the awful days! I am not going to be hysterical any more, and you--you
are just going to remember that we have everything we want in the world.
Sit down opposite to me, if you please, and fill my glass. I have only
one emotion left. I am hungry--desperately hungry. Move your chair nearer
so that I can reach your hand. There! Now you and I will drink our little
toast."

It was an hour before they thought of leaving the table. A very perplexed
waiter brought them coffee and watched them light cigarettes. Then the
telephone bell rang. They both stared at the instrument. Philip would
have taken off the receiver, but Elizabeth held out her hand.

"I have an idea," she said. "I believe it is from Sylvanus Power. Let me
answer it."

She held the receiver to her ear and listened.

"Yes?" she murmured. "Yes?... At what time?"

Her face grew more puzzled. She listened for a moment longer.

"But, Sylvanus," she expostulated, "what do you mean?... Sylvanus?... Mr.
Power?"

The telephone had become a dumb thing. She replaced the receiver.

"I d