After the days of doubt, Dolores rested in blessed conviction. Never before had she been given a chance at happiness. Here was her chance. Suggestions of smiles formed about her lips. A new light, like the gleam from deep-cut amethysts, shone from her eyes. A man like John Cabot did not love lightly. And John Cabot loved her. Next morning she awoke with the wish that her father might know how well all was with her. Although a drizzling rain began to fall, she decided against ordering Jack’s car. She preferred to go to Trevor Trent simply, as they had lived, changed only by the glory from within. She felt close to him while donning, for the first time in weeks, the old blue serge suit whose purchase price he had spared from the poppy paste. The long ride up-town in the Subway, the mudded walk and the plain slab that marked the spot where she had left him to lie beneath down-drifting leaves, brought her nearer. Where is there comfort like confiding a rapturous secret to one’s own? How long the orphaned girl sat beside the grave, oblivious of the rain because her consciousness had gone to find and gladden that of the parent whose last “please God” had been that she find a good love--how drenched was the blue suit--how chilled her feet--she subtracted none of her attention from him to realize. The adventure brought her content. Sometime during the afternoon she returned to the great house on the upper Avenue. So dulled she felt to outer perceptions that surprise held her only a moment to meet the Frenchwoman, Annette, in the elevator. She somehow forgot to listen to the maid’s explanation of why she had not remained with madame. Later she was forced to hear Morrison’s insistence that she needed a doctor, but made light of the good woman’s anxiety. What mattered a slight fever or swollen tonsils or a disinclination toward food to one blessed as was she? As developed, however, these symptoms mattered much in the heightening of her happiness. The housekeeper’s responsibility, transferred to Bradish, resulted in a telephoned message to Mr. Cabot’s club. Soon after the wire, he came, terrified out of all proportion to her trifling symptoms. To see that all his instructions were carried out, he stayed. Dolores’ protestations soon ceased, since to relieve his anxiety might take him away again. It was too precious to forego, this experience of being ministered to by him. Their first meal alone together, which he ordered served in Jack’s living room much as the youngster himself might have done, was an occasion almost too significant for calm. To please him, she tried to sip her broth and eat her toast, but with the sacred joy of a convert at some sacrament.