“I don’t take your view,” he said steadily, “about the Will. The implied condition was blunter and much more precise. You can’t make ‘enjoyment’ a condition—that’s merely a matter of hope. But you can make—wedlock.” The hand began to tremble, and Belinda lifted its fellow and covered her eyes. “Let’s do as you did, dear, and turn it round. If old Drawbridge had known of our bust-up, d’you think he’d ’ve left us this place?” The girl hesitated. Then— “He—he might have, Ivan . . . just as—a matter of hope.” Ivan fell on his knees and drew her hand from her face. This was all rosy. “Don’t let’s get out of our depth, dear. There’s something above inducements and villas and old fellows’ whims. Something stronger. It kept me out of this villa for ten long weeks.” “And me,” whispered Belinda. Ivan put her hands to his lips and let his head fall to her lap. “When you asked me to lunch and said what you did—that day, it made me think . . . And then, suddenly, I was all sorry I hadn’t gone. . . . And then—I thought of the Will. . . . I thought, perhaps if we saw something of each other—not exactly off parade, but at—at home, Ivan. . . .” The man put his arms about her and kissed her mouth. “I love you,” he said simply. “I love you far better than ever I did before. When I came in that morning and found you here in the hall, I—I felt I always wanted to find you there when I came in. You looked so wonderful, Belinda.” With her hands on his shoulders— “You didn’t behave as though you did.” “Respect had to be served.” Belinda nodded gravely. “That’s right. When you told me off at the last——” “I beg your pardon, my darling. I didn’t know.” “How could you, dear? Well, I felt an enormous respect.” “I wonder you didn’t hate me.” “I did—till luncheon next day. Like thunder. And then . . .” She hesitated there and slid her arms round his neck. “You looked so nice, my darling, across our own table.” “My sweet, my sweet . . .” Ivan rose to his feet and put a hand to his throat. A moment’s fumbling, and in his hand lay a ring. This was fast to a cord about his neck. The girl gasped. “Ivan! Since when?” “Since the night we tore it,” he said. He snapped the cord and took her left hand in his. Then he slid the ring on to her finger and put her palm to his lips. . . . Her arms were close about him, and her cheek against his. “Ivan, Ivan, my blessed! _Now I know._ . . . Till a moment ago I wasn’t sure that it wasn’t the Will.” The man picked her up in his arms. “You faithless child,” he said. “It was always only a question of finding a way. And then you found it.” Belinda regarded him with shining eyes. “That’s easy enough,” she said, “where there’s a Will.” HUBERT HUBERT Julia Stane Willow passed into the cool library, took off her hat, pitched this on to a table, and flung herself into a chair. “If you want a drink,” she said shortly, “toll the bell.”