"Oh, I assure you, my dear, I cut a poor figure in my own eyes, when I contrast my conduct with what yours would have been in my place. If we had met years ago things might have gone differently, but now it is too late. Too late for apologies and recantations, that is to say, for they would not be acceptable, even if I could bring myself to the point of offering them. This sounds as if your example had had no real effect after all, but it is not so. Outward circumstances may remain the same, but some of the inward bitterness has gone! Do you remember the old fairy story about the unfortunate king who had three iron bands clamped tightly round his heart? It was the result of a spell, of course, and the only thing which could break their hold was when some mortal did some really fine and noble deed, then with a great bang one of the bands broke loose and conveniently disappeared. "Well, dear little girl, if your present crack-brained mission is not working out to your satisfaction, if your neighbours in the `Mansions' (?) are unappreciative or appreciative in objectionable ways--comfort yourself with the reflection that your sweet example has burst one of Charmion's iron bands. I think on reflection one might almost say _two_, and that she daily blesses you for the relief! "I can't send you an address. I have no idea where I am going next, but before very long you will see me again. I'll burst in upon you some day, with a Paris hat on my head (and another in my box for a pretty friend!) and snatch you away from your fads and fancies, and carry you off to `Pastimes,' to gloat over, all to myself! Don't have anything to say to any presumptuous man who may try to lure you away. For the period of our lease you belong to me, and I am not going to give you up. "Charmion." I smiled, wiped a furtive tear, and carefully folded up the sheet. It _did_ comfort me to know that I had helped Charmion. I thought happily of seeing her again, of all the long interesting talks we would have together. Incidentally I thought of our lease. If we paid a penalty, we could break it at three years. CHAPTER TWENTY. STRANGE CONVERSATIONS. Billie is slowly recovering. He is sitting up in his cot, languidly permitting himself to be adored, waited upon by obsequious attendants, and fed upon the fat of the land. This is the period when outsiders cry gushingly to an invalid's relations, "How happy you must be!" But as a cold matter of fact they usually feel very depressed and snappy and bored. This sounds thankless, but it is nothing of the sort; the thankfulness is all there, stored up for later realisation, but for the moment tired nerves are in the ascendant, and pay one out for the long-drawn strain.