He had not long to wait for the sign from Mrs. Tregent; it arrived the very next morning in the shape of an invitation to dinner. This invitation was immediately accepted, but a fortnight was still to intervene--a trial to Maurice Glanvil's patience. The promptitude of the demonstration gave him pleasure--it showed him no bitterness had survived. What place was there indeed for resentment, since she had married and given birth to children and thought so well of the face God had conferred on her as to wish to hand it on to her posterity? Her husband was in Parliament, or had been--that came back to him from his mother's story. He caught himself reverting to her with a frequency that surprised him; he was haunted by the image of that bright, strong woman on Crisford's canvas, in whom there was just enough of Fanny Knocker to put a sort of defiance into the difference. He wanted to see it again, and his opportunity was at hand in the form of a visit to Mrs. Crisford. He called on this lady, without his daughter, four days after he had lunched with her, and, finding her at home, he presently led the conversation to the portrait and to his ardent desire for another glimpse of it. Mrs. Crisford gratified this eagerness--perhaps he struck her as a possible sitter; it was late in the afternoon and her husband was out: she led him into the studio. Mrs. Tregent, splendid and serene, stood there as if she had been watching for him. There was no doubt the picture was a masterpiece. Maurice had mentioned that he had known the original years before and then had lost sight of her. He questioned his hostess with artful detachment. "What sort of a person has she become--agreeable, popular?" "Everyone adores her--she's so clever." "Really--remarkably?" "Extraordinarily--one of the cleverest women I've ever known, and quite one of the most charming." Maurice looked at the portrait--at the super-subtle smile which seemed to tell him Mrs. Tregent knew they were talking about her; a kind of smile he had never expected to live to see in Fanny Knocker's eyes. Then he asked: "Has she literally become as handsome as that?" Mrs. Crisford hesitated. "She's beautiful." "Beautiful?" Maurice echoed. "What shall I say? It's a peculiar charm! It's her spirit. One sees that her life has been beautiful in spite of her sorrows!" Mrs. Crisford added. "What sorrows has she had?" Maurice coloured a little as soon as he had spoken. "Oh, lots of deaths. She has lost her husband; she has lost several children." "Ah, that's new to me. Was her marriage happy?" "It must have been for Mr. Tregent. If it wasn't for her, no one ever knew." "But she has a son," said Maurice. "Yes, the only one--such a dear. She thinks all the world of him."