He had arranged that a copy of the issue of the paper containing the announcement should be sent to him by post. That morning the postman brought him two enclosures. One was a bulky parcel. When he saw it, his heart, all at once, ceased beating. He had to gasp for breath. Without a word, he began to unfasten it, with hands which trembled. Philippa bustled about the breakfast table, as if her own heart was not working like a wheezy pair of bellows. [Illustration: "'BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU SAY! I AM PHILIP AYRE.'"] "Philippa! it's 'The Beggar'! the manuscript--come back again!" "Never mind." How she tried to speak in the most commonplace of voices. "You can send it somewhere else. It's sure to get accepted." "Send it somewhere else?" She saw that his lips were twitching, that his face seemed bloodless. "But--I don't understand. Not a word of explanation is enclosed. I don't know what it means. Perhaps there's some mistake. Let's--let's see who's won." The other enclosure which had come for him was obviously a copy of the paper. He tore it open-still with hands which trembled. He searched its columns for the announcement. "My God!" "Geoffrey! what's the matter? Who has won? Oh, Geoffrey, have you won?" "Me! me!" He rose to his feet, as it were, inch by inch. "It's Philip Ayre!" "Philip Ayre!" Falling on her knees beside the table, Mrs. Ford covered her face with her hands. "It's Philip Ayre! Didn't I tell you he was destined to be my evil star? Curse----" Mrs. Ford rose up in front of him. "Geoffrey, be careful what you say! I am Philip Ayre." "You? What do you mean?" She advanced to him, on tottering feet, with outstretched hands. "Geoffrey, I am Philip Ayre!" "You are Philip Ayre? What on earth do you mean?" "Oh, Geoffrey, don't you understand? Philippa--Philip Ayre!" There was a moment's pause--a pause which, probably, neither of them ever would forget. "You--you are Philip Ayre! How dull I must have been not to have seen the pretty play upon your name before. Philippa--Philip Ayre. Of course! So you have been my rival. My wife--the mother of my children--the woman I loved better than all the world." "Geoffrey, don't say that I have been your rival!" "No? Not my rival? What then?" "I did it all for you!" "For me? I see. I am beginning, for the first time, to understand the meaning of words. You did it for me? This is not a foreign language which you are speaking--I suppose it is English?" "Geoffrey, will you listen to me for a moment?" "Certainly; and I shall understand that I am listening to you, to your own self, for the first time. It is someone else I have listened to before. Proceed, Mr. Philip Ayre."