“Let me get this right,” said Heloise slowly. “I am Aunt Lizzie ... you want me to be your Aunt Lizzie.... and that poor child is to be ...?” “Uncle Isaac.” “I haven’t gotten it right yet,” said Heloise, “this is a cinema lot ... you’re playing somep’n,” she had forgotten momentarily that she was a lady of fashion and culture. “I’m Aunt Lizzie....” She sank under the burden that had been imposed upon her. “You’re all crazy, that’s what. I’m an American citizen, or near American.... Toronto, but I live so close that I could throw a stone across the border. And I’m Aunt Lizzie!” CHAPTER XIV Gordon was playing absently with potato peelings when she came in. “You’re Uncle Isaac!” she said in a strained, hazy fashion. “Where have you been, Heloise?” The sight of his companion in misfortune brought him with a jerk to normal. Heloise was real, something to cling to; he forgot his resentment in the joy of seeing something that anchored him to Gordon Selsbury. “Say Gordon, that Jane ... she’s Diana, huh?” He nodded. “Your wife, you never told me that?” “She is not my wife ... she has no right here ... if I gave you cause to think I was married it was because I wanted you to go. Don’t you see what you’ve done? You’ve ruined me! If you had only kept away--if you had only kept away!” he moaned. “She’s your widow,” she was very quiet and restrained. He decided that she had lost her reason. “Yes, if you like, she’s my widow,” he said soothingly. “Sit down.... I will get you a glass of water.” “Diana!” said Heloise in wonder. “That’s your little Australian girl.... Gordon, was she a cop?” “A what?” “A headquarters woman! She’s got the style. Come on.” “Where?” “She wants us ...” said Heloise listlessly. “What’s the good of fighting, Gordon? We’re entangled in the mesh of circumstance.” It was a favourite profundity of Heloise; he had heard her say it many times. But they were not entangled then. Five minutes later. A small brown-faced man was shaking Gordon by the hand, by both hands, by alternate hands. In the interval of shaking, he held hands. “Your uncle ... and so young! And yet, he is older than he seems! And this is Aunt Lizzie!” He kissed the patient Heloise on both cheeks. Gordon was a dumbfounded spectator. Who was this infernal little cad, he demanded--Diana had omitted an introduction. After a while it came. “This, Uncle Isaac, is Mr. Guiseppi Dempsi--you remember how often I have spoken of him.” Her steely glance was unnecessary. Gordon remembered. “I thought he was dead.” So intense were his feelings that his voice dropped to a deep base. It startled even himself. “But I am alive! Rejoice, Uncle Isaac! Your little Wopsy is alive! I have come back from the shades! A syren’s sweet magic brought me across the world, yea, even through the shadows....” He pointed with his whole hand to Diana and then. “My bride!” he said tremendously. Gordon looked from one to the other. “Dempsi ... bride ... bride Dempsi....”