"Because you yourself had not learned how. But--at times--now looking back to it--I think--I think we were very near to it--at moments. . . . And then that dreadful dream closed down on us again. . . . And then--the end." "If you could have held out," he breathed; "if I could have helped! It was I who failed you after all!" For a long while they sat in silence; Mrs. Ruthven's white furs now covered her face. At last the carriage stopped. As he sprang to the curb he became aware of another vehicle standing in front of the house--a cab--from which Mrs. Ruthven's maid descended. "What is she doing here?" he asked, turning in astonishment to Mrs. Ruthven. "Phil," she said in a low voice, "I knew you had taken this place. Gerald told me. Forgive me--but when I saw you under the awning it came to me in a flash what to do. And I've done it. . . . Are you sorry?" "No. . . . Did Gerald tell you that I had taken this place?" "Yes; I asked him." Selwyn looked at her gravely; and she looked him very steadily in the eyes. "Before I go--may I say one more word?" he asked gently. "Yes--if you please. Is it about Gerald?" "Yes. Don't let him gamble. . . . You saw the signature on that check?" "Yes, Phil." "Then you understand. Don't let him do it again." "No. And--Phil?" "What?" "That check is--is deposited to your credit--with the rest. I have never dreamed of using it." Her cheeks were afire again, but with shame this time. "You will have to accept it, Alixe." "I cannot." "You must! Don't you see you will affront Gerald? He has repaid me; that check is not mine, nor is it his." "I can't take it," she said with a shudder. "What shall I do with it?" "There are ways--hospitals, if you care to. . . . Good-night, child." She stretched out her gloved arm to him; he took her hand very gently and retained it while he spoke. "I wish you happiness," he said; "I ask your forgiveness." "Give me mine, then." "Yes--if there is anything to forgive. Good-night." "Good-night--boy," she gasped. He turned sharply, quivering under the familiar name. Her maid, standing in the snow, moved forward, and he motioned her to enter the brougham. "Home," he said unsteadily; and stood there very still for a minute or two, even after the carriage had whirled away into the storm. Then, looking up at the house, he felt for his keys; but a sudden horror of being alone arrested him, and he stepped back, calling out to his cabman, who was already turning his horse's head, "Wait a moment; I think I'll drive back to Mrs. Gerard's. . . . And take your time." * * * * * It was still early--lacking a quarter of an hour to midnight--when he arrived. Nina had retired, but Austin sat in the library, obstinately plodding through the last chapters of a brand-new novel.