"It was worth a few hundreds. If it had been a Titian I would not have destroyed it--it had its use in a gallery. But it was not. Worth a few hundreds perhaps. I burned it. François cut it into strips and we burned it in the furnace fire. François and I had a great day. He did not think the picture was pretty." "It was your favorite?" "_Was_ it?" He was astonished. "Well, it is burned: It was too ugly. The subject--no the figures were a little ugly. Now, Lola, what are you going to do?" She had half made up her mind. "I shall take a flat--" He shook his head. "In a way, I have a recollection that you told me you had relations in Cornwall. Was I dreaming? And you said that when you had saved enough money you were going to buy a farm in Cornwall and raise hackneys. Was that a dream?" She shook her head. "No, that is my dream," she said, "but what is the use of talking about that, Ronnie. It would cost a small fortune." "Could you do it on five thousand?" he asked. "With my money and five thousand--yes." "I will lend you three thousand free of all interest, and I will give you two thousand. I won't give it all to you, because I want a hold on you. Easy money spends itself. Will you go to Cornwall, Lola?" François, entering, saved him from her hectic embrace. "You're just--wonderful," she dabbed her eyes. "I know you think I'm dirt and I am--" "Don't be silly. Why should I think that? I am not even sorry for you. Are you sorry for the train that is derailed? You put it back on the track. That is what I am doing. I am one of the derailers. It amused me, it hurt you--oh, yes, it did. I know I was not 'the first', there would be an excuse for me in that event. We are all dirt if it comes to that--dirt is matter in the wrong place. I want to put you where you belong." She was incoherent in her gratitude, awed a little by his seriousness and detachment, prodigiously surprised that François remained on duty. When on her way to the hotel which was to shelter her, she read the evening newspaper, she could appreciate more fully just what Ronnie had done. "Read this!" said Evie tragically. Christina took the newspaper from her hands. "'A curious case'--is that what you mean?" The report was a full one, remembering how late in the day the charge had come up for hearing. "Well?" said Christina, when she had finished reading. "I shall write to Ronald." Evie was very stiff, very determined, sourly virginal. "Of course, you can't believe all that you read in the newspapers, but there is no smoke without fire." "And every cloud has its silver lining," said Christina. "Let us _all_ be trite! What is worrying you, Evie? I think it was fine of Ronnie to look after the girl." "And they drove away from the court together!" wailed Evie. "Why not? It is much better to go together than by taking separate routes and pretending they weren't meeting when all the time they were."