“And now Launcelot will come with mother?” she asked at last. He looked wistfully back at Cynthia and her husband, his heart breaking. Parting with the baby had been gone through upstairs. He had cried till he could cry no more, so he only looked at them. “I would rather belong to you, Lady Beautiful,” he whispered, as she put her arms about him, “much, much rather belong to you.” She watched him walk with his mother down the street, her face pressed to the panes. When he reached the corner he turned and waved back to her. His mother gave his arm a little pull, and he did not turn again. It was the last time Cynthia ever saw him. He went out of her life as suddenly and strangely as he had entered it; but in the meantime the broken thread had been joined together again, the dreams she had resolutely crushed had blossomed in a garden of reality, and the great power of love had filled up what had been the emptiness and desolation of her soul. CHAPTER XL “How Love is the only good in the world.” “NOW I have come to make my apologies, Miss Dallerton,” said the doctor in a cheery voice. It was a cold day, and he looked aggressively warm and reassuring. He never needed to be made allowances for, and Muriel could never quite forgive him that. She had made so many allowances for Jack. “I’m afraid you thought me a little short with you the other day—in fact, you were so displeased you had half a mind to walk through Stepney by yourself—now, hadn’t you?” he asked smiling. “You were very rude to me the other day, Dr. Grant, and though you seem to take my forgiveness for granted, you have not yet given me any explanation.” The doctor laughed, but his eyes grew colder. “Well!” he said, “so you won’t forgive me without?” Muriel frowned. “If you have a reason I should like to hear it,” she suggested. The doctor walked once or twice up and down the room. She watched him unwillingly; he had the most splendid shoulders; she did not think he could be more than thirty-six. Then he stopped before her chair and looked at her very gravely. He was so tall that she felt at a disadvantage; some instinct made her rise too, and they stood there face to face, their eyes doing battle. She looked away at last. “Well?” she questioned. She was conscious that her breath was coming quickly, and she thanked Heaven she didn’t blush easily. “I was short to you,” said the doctor deliberately, “because it seemed to me the only way of getting help from you. If I hadn’t made you thoroughly angry you would probably have fainted.” “I should not have fainted,” she said, her eyes flashing fiercely. She knew she was not speaking the truth, but it was too desperately difficult. If she submitted in one thing, where would they stop? She was beginning to lose her self-control and her sense of proportion at the same time. It is dangerous for a man to lose both, but it is fatal to a woman to lose either.