And indeed he had the air of being perfectly contented. Meanwhile Frank Randolph was too well aware of the sorry figure he had cut in the matter, to be otherwise than silent. And Henry Randolph came home, having deposited his young charges at their convent, and also kept an eye on Dare, with evident success, as the latter returned with him to America; and both were in such jubilant spirits that it seemed as though all things had gone with them exceeding well. Louis Metzerott felt, quite illogically, that the return of her father had broken the last bond that connected him with Pinkie. He was too young for all the hope and courage to die forever out of his life, but also too young to believe in their resurrection; and, just for the present, life was very bitter to him; and only his inherited share of his father’s dogged resolution brought him safely through the summer and winter to a somewhat eventful spring, whereunto we are hurrying as fast as our pen will take us, with due attention to necessary business matters. Upon one of these, the disposal of the sum which Mr. Randolph had transferred to her credit, Alice obtained her husband’s permission to consult Mr. Clare. “So long as your husband’s counsel is not enough for you,” said the doctor, with some bitterness. “But all women are influenced by a straight-cut black coat, even though they may know it covers a fool.” “Mr. Clare is not a fool, Fred.” “He’s an enigma, to be as clear-headed as he is, and yet no hypocrite. Go on, ask him whatever you like; I sha’n’t, mind having his views on the subject, that is, if you care to tell me, for they are sure to be original at all events, and you need not bind yourself to carry them out.” “I shall consult him in your presence and nowhere else,” said Alice, more wounded than she cared to show. Mr. Clare listened to her statement of the facts in the case, with a calm exterior but some inward perplexity. “I suppose _something_ must be done with the money,” he said, after a little consideration; “but your husband is probably better able to advise you what, than I am.” Dr. Richards smiled grimly. “It might be given back to Randolph, or transferred to Pinkie,” he said grimly; “or even Frank would not turn up his nose at it.” “The last I should by no means advise,” said the clergyman quickly; “indeed, I am not sure that I can advise at all,” he added. “Well, it is usually a thankless task, I admit,” said the doctor; “but when you find us at a total deadlock in a question of conscience, eh?” “I can _not_ see the harm there would be in taking this money and making a proper use of it,” said Alice emphatically. Mr. Clare smiled. “I begin to understand,” he said. “Two people are never at a total deadlock, Dr. Richards, upon any question that requires immediate action, and which both of them thoroughly understand. Truth being what it is, the thing is impossible.”