"I've found her, Atwood," MacGregor hailed him jubilantly. "I've found her at last." The newcomer took an uncertain step forward, halted again, then strode suddenly toward the screen. "I think I have, too," he said, at the little window now. "It's Jack, isn't it?" XIX And Jean? It was as if she still dwelt in fancy in that unforgettable past. She had burst her bars; she had come, a fugitive, to the birch-edged shore of a lonely lake; her knight of the forest stood before her. [Illustration: Her knight of the forest stood before her.] The astonished MacGregor, having waited a decent interval for some rational clew to the situation, recalled his own existence by the simple expedient of folding the screen. "Step inside, won't you?" he invited with a dry grin. "You may take cold at the window." Atwood turned an illumined face. "It's been years since we met," he explained. "I was not sure at first--the costume, the place." MacGregor's eye lingered upon him in humorous meditation. "Perhaps you'll see your way in time to introduce me," he suggested. "This has been a business session, so far. We hadn't come to names." The younger man floundered, glowing healthily, but Jean retained her wits. "Miss Fanshaw," she supplied promptly. "I should have mentioned it before." She vanished into the alcove, questioned her unfamiliar image in the little mirror, and began to resume her street-dress with fingers not under perfect control. There came an indistinct murmur of talk from the studio in which MacGregor's incisive tones predominated. His companion's responses were few and low. When she reëntered, Atwood stood waiting by the outer door. "At nine, then," reminded MacGregor. "So-long, Craig, if you must go." "So-long," answered the other, absently. On the stair they faced each other with the wonder of their meeting still upon them. "You are not a professional model," he said; "I should have come across you before, if you were." "You have seen me get my first engagement." "And with MacGregor! Was it chance?" "Just chance." "Jove!" he ejaculated. "It might have been myself. Yet it's strange enough as it is. MacGregor in there was the chap I was to camp with, you remember? The man whose grandmother--" "Great-grandmother, wasn't it?" she smiled. "You do remember!"