And suddenly conscious that he had spoken aloud, Reggie undressed and went to bed, knowing full well that even though the hearth-stone should be eternally cold, and the high hopes flattened beyond all possible recognition, there yet remained to him something passing the love of women. For Reggie was not without an altar and a secret shrine, though not even the figure of the woman he loved best would ever fill it. The sacred fire of his devotion burned with a steady flame that illumined his whole life, though not even to himself did he confess the vows he paid. "One must choose one's own mystery: the great thing is to have one." And if prayer be the daily expression to the soul of the desire to do the right thing, then Reggie prayed without ceasing that he might do his WORK, and do it well. His profession was his God, and he served faithfully and with a single heart. * * * * * * Mary had no fire to sit over, but all the same she dawdled throughout her undressing and, unlike Reggie, wasted the precious electric light. She had a great deal to think about, for Grantly and Reggie were not the only people to confide in Mary that holiday. The day before he left, General Grantly had taken her for a walk, sworn her to secrecy, and then had sprung upon her a most astounding project. No other than that he and Mrs Grantly should take her mother with them when they went to the South of France for March--their mother without any of them. "She has never had a real holiday by herself since she was married," the General said, "and my idea is that she should come with us directly your father gets back. The boys will be at school--Grantly at the Shop. There will only be the two little ones and your father to consider, and you could look after them. I'd like to take you too, my dear, but I don't fancy your mother could be persuaded to leave your father unless there was someone to see to things for him." "She'd never leave father alone," Mary said decidedly; "but she might, oh, she might go now I'm really grown up. I should love her to go. Don't you think"--Mary's voice was very wistful--"that she's been looking a little tired lately . . . not quite so beautiful . . . as usual?" "Ah, you've noticed it too--that settles it--not a word, mind; if it's sprung upon her at a few days' notice it may come off. If she has time to think she'll discover insurmountable difficulties. Strategy, my dear, strategy must be our watchword." "But father," Mary suggested dubiously, "who's going to manage him?" "I think," the General said grimly, "I think we may safely leave your father in Grannie's hands. She has undertaken to square him, and, what she undertakes--I have never known her fail to put through." "It will be most extraordinary to have mother go off for quite a long time by herself," Mary said thoughtfully.