Time and again he went far out of his way to pass by the house near Washington Square, admittedly surreptitious in his movements. On hot nights he rode down Fifth Avenue on the top of the stages, and always cast an eye to the right in passing the street in which Anne lived, looking in vain for lights in the windows of the closed house. And an hundred times a day he thought of the key that no longer kept company with others at the end of a chain but lay loose in his trousers' pocket. Times there were when an almost irresistible desire came upon him to go down there late at night and enter the house, risking discovery by the servants who remained in quarters, just for a glimpse of the rooms upstairs she had described,—her own rooms,—the rooms in which she dreamed of him. He affected the society of George and Lutie, spending a great deal of his leisure with them, scorning himself the while for the perfectly obvious reason that moved him. Automobile jaunts into the country were not infrequent. He took them out to the country inns for dinner, to places along the New Jersey and Long Island shores, to the show grounds at Coney Island. There were times when he could have cursed himself for leading them to believe that he was interested only in their affairs and not in this affair of his own; times when he realised to the full that he was _using_ them to satisfy a certain craving. They were close to Anne in every way; they represented her by proxy; they had letters from her written in the far-off town in Canada; she loved them, she encouraged them, she envied them. And they talked of her,—how they talked of her! More than all else, George and Lutie personified Love. They represented love triumphant over all. Their constancy had been rewarded, and the odds had been great against it. He was contented and happy when near them, for they gave out love, they radiated it, they lived deep in the heart of it. He craved the company of these serene, unselfish lovers because they were brave and strong and inspiring. He fed hungrily on their happiness, and he honestly tried to pay them for what they gave to him. He was glad to hear that George was going into a new and responsible position in the fall,—a six thousand dollar a year job in the office of a big manufacturing company. He rejoiced not because George was going ahead so splendidly but because his advancement was a justification of Anne's faith in her seemingly unworthy brother,—and, moreover, there was distinctly something to be said for the influence of love. When George's family departed for the north, Thorpe was like a lost soul. In the first week of their absence, he found himself more than once on the point of throwing everything aside and rushing off after them. His scruples, his principles, his resolutions were shaken in the mighty grasp of despair. There were to be no more letters, and, worse than all else, she would not be lonely! * * * * *