coming--why, it's wonderful, Philip. We don't want wealth. Your brain and
my art can win us all that we desire in life. We shall have something
sweeter than anything which Sylvanus Power's millions could buy. We shall
have our love--your love for me, dear, and mine for you."

He felt her tears upon his cheek, her lips pressed to his. He held her
there, but although his heart was beating with renewed hope, he said
nothing for a time. When she stepped back to look at his face, however,
the change was already there.

"You are glad, Philip!" she cried. "You are happy--I can see it! You
didn't ever care really for that girl, did you?"

He almost laughed.

"Not like this!" he answered confidently. "I never even for a single
moment pretended to care in a great way. We were just companions in
misfortune. The madness that came over me that day had been growing in my
brain for years. I hated Douglas Romilly. I had every reason to hate him.
And then, after all he had robbed me of--my one companion--"

She stopped him.

"I know--I know," she murmured. "You need never try to explain anything
to me. I know everything, I understand, I sympathise."

A revulsion of feeling had suddenly chilled him. He held her to him none
the less tightly but there was a ring of despair in his tone.

"Elizabeth, think what it may mean!" he muttered. "How can I drag you