Things went well. Dr. Jennings was badly off for quarters. She would make a change if she could better herself. Peter drew her off to a corner and stated his case. She listened attentively, albeit not without disapproval. She frankly discredited the altruism of Peter's motives when he told her about Harmony. But as the recital went on she found herself rather touched. The story of Jimmy appealed to her. She scolded and lauded Peter in one breath, and what was more to the point, she promised to visit the house in the Siebensternstrasse the next day. “So Anna Gates has gone home!” she reflected. “When?” “This morning.” “Then the girl is there alone?” “Yes. She is very young and inexperienced, and the boy--it's myocarditis. She's afraid to be left with him.” “Is she quite alone?” “Absolutely, and without funds, except enough for her lessons. Our arrangement was that she should keep the house going; that was her share.” Dr. Jennings was impressed. It was impossible to talk to Peter and not believe him. Women trusted Peter always. “You've been very foolish, Dr. Byrne,” she said as she rose; “but you've been disinterested enough to offset that and to put some of us to shame. To-morrow at three, if it suits you. You said the Siebensternstrasse?” Peter went home exultant. CHAPTER XVII Christmas-Day had had a softening effect on Mrs. Boyer. It had opened badly. It was the first Christmas she had spent away from her children, and there had been little of the holiday spirit in her attitude as she prepared the Christmas breakfast. After that, however, things happened. In the first place, under her plate she had found a frivolous chain and pendant which she had admired. And when her eyes filled up, as they did whenever she was emotionally moved, the doctor had come round the table and put both his arms about her. “Too young for you? Not a bit!” he said heartily. “You're better-looking then you ever were, Jennie; and if you weren't you're the only woman for me, anyhow. Don't you think I realize what this exile means to you and that you're doing it for me?” “I--I don't mind it.” “Yes, you do. To-night we'll go out and make a night of it, shall we? Supper at the Grand, the theater, and then the Tabarin, eh?” She loosened herself from his arms. “What shall I wear? Those horrible things the children bought me--” “Throw 'em away.” “They're not worn at all.” “Throw them out. Get rid of the things the children got you. Go out to-morrow and buy something you like--not that I don't like you in anything or without--” “Frank!” “Be happy, that's the thing. It's the first Christmas without the family, and I miss them too. But we're together, dear. That's the big thing. Merry Christmas.” An auspicious opening, that, to Christmas-Day. And they had carried out the program as outlined. Mrs. Boyer had enjoyed it, albeit a bit horrified at the Christmas gayety at the Tabarin.