The image of Anne was so constantly with Stephen, her every little trick of manner, from the way she turned her head, to the way she folded her hands, was all so carefully registered in his memory, had become so entirely a part of himself, that it was no surprise to him to see her. Did he not see her always! Nevertheless, as he looked at her, all power of going forward to meet her, of speaking to her, left him. The blood seemed to ebb slowly from his heart, and his grim face blanched. "How did you come here?" he stammered at last, his voice sounding harsh and unfamiliar. "On foot." "In this fog?" "Yes." "Who came with you?" "I came alone. I wished to speak to you. I hear you are ruined." "I can meet my liabilities," he said proudly. "Is it true that you have lost two millions?" "It is--possibly more." A moment of terror seemed to pass over Anne. The lovely colour in her cheek faded suddenly. She supported herself against the table, with a shaking gloved hand. Then she drew herself up, and said in a firm voice: "Do you remember that night in Hamilton Gardens when you asked me to marry you?" Stephen bowed. He could not speak. Even his great strength was only just enough. "I refused you because I saw you were convinced that I did not care for you. If I had told you I loved you then you would not have believed it." Stephen's hand gripped the mantelpiece. He was trembling from head to foot. His eyes never left her. "But now the money is gone," she said, becoming paler than ever, "perhaps, now the dreadful money is gone, you will believe me if I tell you that I love you." And so Stephen and Anne came home to each other at last--at last. * * * * * "My dear," said the Duke to Anne the following day, "this is a very extraordinary proceeding of yours. You refuse Vanbrunt when he is rich, and accept him when he is tottering on the verge of ruin. It seems a reversal of the usual order of things. What will your mother say?" "I have already had a letter from her, thanking Heaven that I was not engaged to him. She says a good deal about how there is a Higher Power which rules things for the best." "I wish you would allow it freer scope," said the Duke. "All the same, I should be thankful if she were here. It will be my horrid, vulgar duty to ask Vanbrunt what he has got; what small remains there are of his enormous fortune. I hear on good authority that he is almost penniless. One is not a parent for nothing. I wish to goodness your mother were in town. She always did this sort of thing herself with a dreadful relish on previous occasions. You must push him into my study, my dear, after his interview with you. I will endeavour to act the heavy father. That is his bell. I will depart. I have letters to write." The Duke left the room, and then put his head in again.