"As you please," said Mrs. Gilroy, perfectly calmly. Then Durham sent for Inspector Groom, and, pending his arrival, Mrs. Gilroy signed the paper, with Durham and the clerk as witnesses. She then fell asleep, and Durham went out to receive Groom. They talked together for some time, then entered the room. Mrs. Gilroy was lying on the floor in convulsions, and laughed when she saw them. "Good Heavens!" cried Groom. "She has poisoned herself!" "I have taken drows," gasped Mrs. Gilroy. "That's my dukkerin!" and died hard. CHAPTER XXIII A YEAR LATER It was midsummer, and Miss Berengaria's garden was a sight. Such splendid colors, such magnificent blossoms, such triumphs of the floricultural art, had never been seen outside the walls of a flower show. The weather was exceedingly warm, and on this particular day there was not a cloud in the sky. Miss Plantagenet pottered about her garden, clipping and arranging as usual, and seemed to be in the very best of spirits. And well she might be, for this was a red-letter day with her. Under the shade of a large elm-tree sat Durham, in the most unprofessional tweed suit, and beside him, Alice, radiant in a white dress. She looked particularly pretty, and her face was a most becoming color. Every now and then she would glance at the watch on her wrist, and Durham laughed as he saw how frequently she referred to it. "The train won't be here for another hour," he said, smiling. "You will see Bernard soon enough, Miss Malleson." "Oh, dear me," sighed Alice, "can I ever see him soon enough? It seems like eleven years instead of eleven months since he went away. I wish he hadn't gone." "Well," said Durham, following with his eyes the spare little figure of Miss Berengaria flitting about amongst the flowers, "I didn't approve of it at the time, and I told Conniston so. But now I think it was just as well Bernard did keep to his original intention and go to the Front. It is advisable there should be an interval between the new life and the old." "The new life?" asked Alice, flushing. "He is coming home to be married to you," said Durham. "And with a bullet in his arm," sighed Alice. "I shall have to nurse him back to health before we can marry." "Miss Randolph will be occupied in the same pleasing task with Conniston," replied Durham, lazily, "and I envy both my friends." "You needn't," laughed Miss Malleson, opening her sunshade which cast a delicate pink hue on her cheeks. "Poor Bernard has been wounded and Lord Conniston has been down with enteric fever." "I am glad they have got off so easily. Bernard might have been shot, you know." Alice shuddered and grew pale. "Don't, Mr. Durham!"