He was overwhelmingly rejoiced. He felt that neither life nor death could ever sadden him again, because one woman was so good, so sweet. Chapter XXIV “Your line has been busy for the past hour! Big business?” It was Joan’s voice, coming to Hugh through his office telephone toward noon the following morning. He laughed. “Reporters mostly. The papers are on to the exhibition, and all you prophesied seems to be coming true about the part they’re giving Ariel in their stories.” “Yes, of course. They’ve been hectoring us here too. I’m at the gallery with Michael and Charlie. You can thank me, Hugh, for keeping Michael from giving them the story about ‘Noon’ in the attic. He’s absolutely promised now. And Charlie has promised. It’s safe. And your ‘Shell’ is safe too. Michael’s going to let you have it. I’ve bought you one myself, Hugh. I’d have wanted you to choose it, but it wouldn’t wait. Every last painting, even the sketches, have been bid for. The Metropolitan is going to get the lion’s share. A fortune seems to have been donated by some dark angel. It will probably come out who, though. So far, Michael claims it’s not he. ‘Sun and Wind’s’ the painting I’ve bought for you, Hugh. For your birthday! It’s the only canvas without the Dancer. If for nothing else that makes it a prize, of course. Priceless some day. Have the reporters invaded Wild Acres yet? They know, of course, that Ariel is there. And when _is_ she coming in? Michael wants to know.” “Wonderful of you to remember my birthday, Joan. I don’t remember ‘Sun and Wind.’ But I’m grateful. You shall hang it for me at Wild Acres. But the attic’s barred....” They both laughed.... “Ariel’s not coming in till to-morrow afternoon. Grandam clings to her. She’s so very weak. I wouldn’t be here myself, but there was something that had to be attended to at the office.... To-morrow Glenn and Anne are getting away from college to see Grandam, and they’ll take in the exhibition. If Grandam’s better, Ariel and I’ll meet ’em at the Grand Central, the noon train, and come right along to the gallery before going out to Wild Acres. Tell Schwankovsky that, please.” “Not till to-morrow! Well, he will be disappointed. Ariel might think of him a little, after all he’s done for her!” “She does. Of course, Joan. Last night she wrote him a letter, a very dear one, I imagine. I put a special on it and posted it in the Grand Central this morning. He’ll have it when he goes home.” “Yes? Well, that may appease him. Where are you lunching, Hugh?” “With you if you’ll let me, and why don’t I come right up and get you now?” But he had little hope of Joan’s acceptance, for it was likely that she had already arranged to lunch with Schwankovsky. “Only alone. Please don’t take me up if there’s to be any one else along.”