“Yes, you did so; and I went on running knives into you. Why didn't you pitch me into the lake last night? I wish to God you'd do it now.” “We will forget all that,” said Raine, kindly. “You may, but I shan't. And she--for heaven's sake, ask her to forgive me. I was trying to do my best. You believe that, don't you?” “With all my heart,” said Raine. “And I'll tell you, Chetwynd,” continued Hockmaster, with a truer ring of feeling in his voice than Raine had ever perceived, “I meant to be a good man to her, to put down my cloak over every puddle in life for her to walk upon, to make her just as happy as I could. But I guess I've been a blamed fool. I've been a blamed fool all my life. First thing I remember was running away from school to live in the woods. At first it was glorious. Then it rained all night, and I crawled back next morning sick and miserable, and was put to bed for a month. I reckon I'll go home. My White Lead Company's going to burst like all the other bubbles. I heard this morning. An hour ago I thought, 'Anyway, I've found a good friend and a wife in Europe.' Now that's gone. But she'll be happy. You're worth twenty million of me. You won't see me again. I suppose I'm the sorriest man standing on the earth at the present moment; but you won't think worse of me than I am, will you?” He looked sideways at Raine, in his odd, appealing way. “Upon my soul,” cried Raine, in an outburst of generous feeling, grasping him by the shoulder, “I don't know whether you are not one of the most lovable men I have ever met!” Raine walked back to the pension with love in his heart towards all mankind. God was in his heaven. All was right with the world. He found Katherine and Felicia in the salon waiting for dinner, in company with Mme. Popea and Frau Schultz. Mme. Popea cried out on seeing him,--“Another happy one! What has made you all look so beatified?” “The eternal beauty of humanity,” returned Raine, with a smile. “And you have caught the plague of epigrams,” said Frau Schultz. “I asked Miss Graves why she had such a colour, and she said, 'because the world seemed wider to-day.' It's a new language.” “It is the turn of madame,” said Mme. Popea, in her vivacious way. Katherine laughed. “This is not a parlour game, you know. But perhaps it is because I am going to dine.” Raine's heart leapt at the little touch of gaiety. His eyes showed her his gladness. A stream of the other guests entered. She took advantage of the sudden filling of the salon to draw him to her side. A glance asked a tremulous question. He reassured her with a whisper, and they went out on to the balcony. “I have told my father,” said Raine. “He will love you, dear.” She pressed his arm for answer. There was a long silence, which Raine, half divining her mood, would not break. At last he said, lover-wise,-- “Tell me your thoughts, beloved.”