"I'm going to fight," was the firm response. "And you wanted my advice," Stuart laughed. The doctor smiled at his own inconsistency. "Well, I know I'm right, and I wished you to back me up. The law is on my side, isn't it?" "The written law, yes. But you are facing a bigger question than one of statutory law." "So I am, boy, so I am! That's why I gave you a glimpse to-night of the world in which I live and work and dream." "Bivens has put up to you a cold-blooded business proposition----" "Exactly. And there are things that can't be bought and sold. I am one of them!" The stalwart figure rose in simple dignity, and there was a deep tremor in his voice as he paused. "But I'm keeping you. It's nine o'clock--and somebody's waiting--eh, boy?" "Yes," Stuart answered apologetically. "I'm afraid I've not been of much use to you to-night." The doctor bent closer, smiling: "I understand--of course! The angels are singing in your heart this evening the old song of life that always makes the world new and young and beautiful. Over all ugliness the veil of the mystery of Love! The only real things to-night for you--the throb of triumph within your heart, the hovering presence of a woman's face, the tenderness of her eyes, the tangled light in her hair, the smile on her lips, the thrill of her voice, the pride of her step, the glory of her form----" "Yes," Stuart echoed with elation. "And yet--it couldn't be measured in terms of barter and sale--could it?" The doctor gripped his hand tenderly in parting. The smile died from the younger man's face and his answer was scarcely audible: "No!" CHAPTER III A LOVERS' QUARREL It was half past ten before Stuart reached Gramercy Park. The wind had shifted to the southeast and a cold, drizzling rain, mixed with fog enveloped the city. Somehow the chill found his heart. The windows of Nan's room were dark. For the first time in his life he had called and found her out. He rang the door-bell in a stupor of disappointment. For just a moment the sense of disaster was so complete it was ridiculous. A maid answered at last and ushered him into the dimly lighted parlour. "Miss Nan is at home, Berta?" he asked eagerly. The little Danish maid smiled knowingly: "Na, but Meesis Primrose----" With a groan Stuart sank to a chair. The maid turned up the lights and left the room. He looked about with astonishment. Things had been happening with a vengeance during his absence. The entire house had been redecorated. An oriental rug of dazzling medallion pattern was on the newly polished floor. Instead of the set of Chippendale mahogany the Primroses had brought from the South, a complete outfit of stately gilded stuff filled the room, and heavy draperies to match hung from the tall windows and folding doors.