"Don't, child! That does for me, not for you. So this is good-bye. You are not sorry?" Her eyes scanned the girl's closely, and then she smiled. "If you are, you will get over it soon. That is the best of work. I often wish I had some--to make me forget myself." "But you do work--you work harder than anyone I know, in a way. Why, to-night we were quite dull; so dull without you! Everyone missed you; and yet----" "And yet? out with it, little one!" "I was wondering if it was worth it?" "Yes! if you have a craze to be admired, as I have. But I didn't ask you to come here in order to talk about myself. You would not understand me if I did. Pray Heaven you never may. So you have said good-bye to them all, and you are not sorry! That is well. Now, let me wish you good luck, and give you a word of advice." "Twenty, if you like." "Make the most of that luck--and _Alphonse_." "You mean Dr. Kennedy?" asked the girl, stiffly. "Dr. Kennedy. There are not many like him in this world." "I doubt if there are any. At least, I have not met them," she replied, with a quick flush of impatience. "I am glad to hear you say that. Good-bye, my dear, and forget us all as soon as you can." "I shall remember your kindness--for you have been kind--all of you. Good-bye." When the door had closed, Mrs. Vane leant back in her chair with a sigh of relief. That was over then, and, so far as she could judge, without harm to the girl. And now--now she could face the other problem. Perhaps there need be no harm there, either, but she must think--she must think. So in the softness, and the dimness, and the luxury, her face grew more anxious, more weary, until the memory of Marjory's words came back to her. Was it worth it all? Whether it was worth it or not did not matter; the plotting and planning had become a second nature to her--she must think--she must think! And Marjory, passing out into the calm cool of the night, gave a sigh of relief also. It was over; that strange life, so different from the future one which lay before her. Was she sorry? Yes! a little. No one could know Paul Macleod and not feel a regret at the thought of his future. Yet she was glad it was over despite that queer sort of numb pain at her heart at the thought of his unfailing kindness to her. And now she would never see him again, never---- A red star showed low down behind a turn in the rhododendrons, and a moment after Paul's voice said easily, as he threw away his cigar: "You have not been long." So it was not over! That was her first thought, and then came a quick flutter at her heart. Over! was not it rather just beginning for this--_this_ was new. Her pride rose in arms against it instantly. "I did not expect--" she began almost haughtily. "Did you not? That was rather foolish of you. You expected me to let you walk home alone; but I think I know my duties; as a host, at any rate."