Her face was drawn and pale. He laughed down into her eyes. "Little lady," he reminded her, mockingly, "I am going to dine with my cheesemonger employer." She shook her head dreamily. She refused to be dragged down. "There's something beating in the air," she continued. "It came into the room with you. Don't you feel it? Can't you feel that you are going to a tragedy? Life is going to be different, Arnold, to be different always." He drew himself up. A flicker of passion flamed in his own deep gray eyes. "Different, child? Of course it's going to be different. If there weren't something else in front, do you think one could live? Do you think one could be content to struggle through this miserable quagmire if one didn't believe that there was something else on the other side of the hill?" She sighed, and her fingers touched his. "I forgot," she said simply. "You see, there was a time when I hadn't you. You lifted me out of my quagmire." "Not high enough, dear," he answered, caressingly. "Some day I'll take you over to Berlin or Vienna, or one of those wonderful places. We'll leave Isaac to grub along and sow red fire in Hyde Park. We'll find the doctors. We shall teach you to walk again without that stick. No more gloominess, please." She pressed his hand tightly. "Dear Arnold!" she whispered softly. "Turn around and watch the river with me, little one," he begged. "See the lights on the barges, how slowly they move. What is there behind that one, I wonder?" Her eyes followed his finger without enthusiasm. "I can't look out of the room to-night, Arnold," she said. "The fancies won't come. Promise me one thing." "I promise," he agreed. "Tell me everything--don't keep anything back." "On my honor," he declared, smiling. "I will bring the menu of the dinner, if there is one, and a photograph of Mrs. Cheesemonger if I can steal it. Now I am going to help you back into your room." "Don't bother," she begged. "Open the door and I can get there quite easily." He set the door open and, crossing the bare stone landing, opened the door of another room, similar to his. They were somber apartments at the top of the deserted house, which had once been a nobleman's residence. The doors were still heavy, though blistered with time and lack of varnish. There were the remains of paneling upon the wall and frescoes upon the ceiling. "Come and see me before you go," she pleaded. "I am all alone. Isaac has gone to a meeting somewhere."