“Why did you do this, Camilla?” he said. “No,” he went on hurriedly, as she opened her eyes in real or assumed mystification. “You need not waste time in asking what. I shall tell you all. You wanted me to marry rich, deliberately planned to have me do it, as any silly match making mother with a daughter to get off her hands would have done, and now the whole scheme is the talk of the servants’ hall and the sculleries. I am sorry to have to disoblige a lady, but under the circumstances I must make my adieux to you at once.” He lifted his hat and struck off towards the hotel. “Radnor, you are mad,” Camilla called after him, but he never turned his head; and it was the talk of the house for the rest of the day that Radnor Hunt and his cousin had breakfasted separately. But the gossips had a yet richer feast in store. Radnor left on the noon train, and—how it got out no one exactly knew—but it was rumored for a fact that he had insisted on paying his own bill. Mrs. Stilton Barnes took her departure almost immediately afterwards, and the following week the Grants left for Au Sable Chasm, Miss Bellman of course accompanying them. All this, as has been explained, happened two years previous to the opening of the present account of Radnor Hunt. He had gone straight from Lorimac to New York, and plunged into work with desperate earnestness. And so well had he succeeded that, starting in the metropolis without a friend, he had now not only a comfortable income, but would have been warmly welcomed at a dozen homes had he chosen to accept the invitations he received. He was even chary of companionship with his own sex. It seemed as if his faith in the entire human species had been shaken, and while his fellow artists and the literary men with whom he came in contact, all liked him, none ever succeeded in becoming more than an acquaintance. And thus, lonesome as a hermit, Radnor lived on, taking his successes without enthusiasm, for there was no one else to reap the benefit of them. He suffered as one without hope, for no matter now what fame or riches he might attain, he felt that after what had happened he could never make any attempt to secure the only thing in the world that was precious to him. Sometimes during his long solitary vigils in the studio he would try and plan how things might have gone if he had not chanced to understand French. Already before the Carnival he had received an invitation to call if he made up his mind to settle in New York. He might have been very intimate at the great house on Madison Avenue by this time. He passed it now and then in his walks, and once he met Olive just as she was crossing the sidewalk to step into the carriage. She smiled as she bowed, and turned partially as if she expected he was going to stop, but he walked on rapidly, and always after that avoided the avenue whenever possible.