Two o’clock—three o’clock. He was late. Evelyn, hearing the clock strike, tried to move, and found herself held in the grip of almost intolerable physical pain. For hours she must have sat in one position, leaning forward in her chair, with hands lightly crossed upon her knee; every limb was cramped. She crossed to the window, and pulled aside the blind for a moment. In the daytime the windows were alight with a thousand eyes; now they were blank and sightless. The street was deserted; the reflection from the lamp showed a long expanse of deserted pavement. Then from afar she heard the sounds of approaching footsteps, firm, determined; belonging to one she knew. Her thought had drawn him as she wished. She let the blind fall, and going to the hall door awaited his coming. We read, mostly in books by spinsters, a great many unnecessary details of what in their view is a scene of passion. But when a man is overwhelmed and broken it is the mother-love of the woman he cares for most to which he looks for peace and security. There are no sweeter or more tender services than those which a woman can offer her lover under such conditions, and nothing draws them nearer than his temporary dependence. Farquharson came in blindly, like a dazed man, gripping her arm with a strength he did not realize. She knew there was some new pain behind his stricken eyes; when the hospitable gods give you a bitter cup to drink they are very careful to fill it full. He sat in absolute silence for a while, and she knelt beside him. It struck her afterwards as a wonderful proof of the tie between them that he did not question her when she met him at the threshold, that he took her waiting, her expectation, her very silence for granted. It was a long time before he turned. Then he looked her full in the face, with eyes from which all the light and youth had gone. He caught his breath. "You have heard the news?" he said. "I thought so. The streets were alive with people last night. I was pressed to buy papers over and over again on my way here. The result had barely been announced in the House when a message reached me from home"—Evelyn winced—"from the nurse, to tell me that _my wife_"—he laid stress on the word—-"was ill, and wanted me. As I was leaving the House, at the very door, I was stopped by another messenger, it was an important cable in reference to a big Russian question; it required special knowledge. The man who is taking over my work had to deal with it then and there, and couldn’t without help. I stayed. That meant ten minutes’ delay, but it had to be. It took me another eight minutes to get home. Two minutes before my son had died in agony, left by the nurses in order that they might attend to Dora, who was in violent hysterics because she thought they were neglecting her to look after my child."