"And afterward you sang to us. It was wonderful." Then the talk buzzed round them, but they were silent. The woman who had represented her queen in a great country and the man who had been climbing with steady feet the ladder of fame were both thinking of that little country vicarage among the hills. She saw him, the first of his type she had ever met, reserved, forceful, at times strangely eloquent, in soiled clothes and brusque manner, yet speaking of the great things of life as one who understood--who meant to conquer. And he remembered her, the first woman of her order with whom he had ever spoken, the first beautiful woman whose hand he had ever touched. He remembered her soft voice, her lazy, musical laugh, her toilet and her jewels, which, though simple enough, were a revelation to him. She represented to him from that moment a new world of delight. All those forgotten love verses whose form alone he had been able to appreciate, welled up in his heart, sang in his blood, filled for him with glorious color the whole literature of love and passion. Her coming had given him understanding. He looked back upon those days as he had done many a time during the last few years--but to-night there was a difference. Like a flash he realized what her coming back meant to him. The old madness was unquenched--unquenchable. He had thought himself cured! What folly! The battle was before him yet. He was roused from his abstraction by a word from her, and found himself apologizing to his left-hand neighbor for a twice-asked question. The conversation became political. A moment later he was again gravely discussing the prospects of the "Better Housing of the Poor" bill. Amid a rustling of laces and swish of silk, which sounded to him like the winged flight of many tropical birds, the women passed out. Strone noticed that Lady Malingcourt avoided his eager gaze as she followed her hostess from the room. A couple of hours later Strone pushed his way through the little crowd of servants, who were waiting about the entrance to Sydenham House, and turned westward on foot. This meeting, always looked forward to, always counted upon as a certain part of his future, had taken place at last. She was unchanged, as beautiful as ever, and her old power over him was not one whit lessened. More vividly than ever he realized how his present position was almost wholly owing to the stimulus of her appeal to him. Step by step he had fought his way doggedly onward. Difficulties had been brushed away, obstacles surmounted. He had kept his word, he had justified her belief in him. He had taken his place, if not in her world, at least among those who had the right to enter it. Henceforth they might meet often. Surely the summer of his life had come.