renounced the pomps and vanities of a world which she scorned? Had not this wonderful baptism of love brought New Birth? She had been reborn, a braver, purer woman; she had been initiated into life's deeper mysteries; her soul had been filled with joy. Of what count were externals? The next evening Connie Deering gave a small dinner-party in honour of the two engagements. Old Colonel Pawley, charged under pain of her perpetual displeasure not to reveal the secret of Norma's whereabouts, was invited to balance the sexes. He was delighted to hear of Norma's romantic marriage. “I can still present the fan,” he said, rubbing his soft palms together; “but I'm afraid I shall have to write a fresh set of verses.” “You had better give Norma a cookery-book,” laughed Connie. “I have a beautiful one of my own in manuscript which no publisher will take up,” sighed Colonel Pawley. Norma, who had been wont to speak with drastic contempt of the amiable old warrior, welcomed him so cordially that he was confused. He was not accustomed to exuberant demonstrations of friendship from the beautiful Miss Hardacre. At dinner, sitting next her, he enjoyed himself enormously. Instead of freezing his geniality with sarcastic remarks, she lured him on to the gossip in which his heart delighted. When Connie rallied her, later, on her flirtation with the old man, she laughed. “Remember I've been a prisoner here. He's one of the familiar faces from outside.” Although jestingly, she had spoken with her usual frankness, and her confession was more deeply significant than she was aware at the time. She had welcomed Colonel Pawley not for what he was, but for what he represented. As soon as she was alone she realised the moral lapse, and rebuked herself severely. She was sentimental enough to hang by a ribbon around her neck the simple engagement ring which Jimmie had given her, and to sleep with it as a talisman against evil thoughts. She spent the following evening at the studio, heroically enduring the discomforts of the detested omnibus. When she descended she drew a breath of relief, but felt the glow that comes from virtuous achievement. Jimmie was informed of this practice in the art of economy. He regarded her wistfully. There were times when he too fought with doubts,--not of her loyalty, but of his own honesty in bringing her down into his humble sphere. Even now, accustomed as he was to the adored sight of her there, he could not but note the contrast between herself and her surroundings. She brought with her in every detail of her person, in every detail of her dress, in every detail of her manner, an atmosphere of a dainty, luxurious life pathetically incongruous with the shabby little house. He had not even the wherewithal to call in decorators and upholsterers and make the little house less shabby. So when she spoke of practising economy, he looked at her wistfully.