great allies--" and I told him about Lady Dorothy Nevill at Mrs. Jeune's
lunch.

"Isn't she a dear old lady?" he cried, "charming, brilliant, human
creature! She might have stepped out of a page of Thackeray, only
Thackeray never wrote a page quite dainty and charming enough. He came
near it in his 'Esmond.' Oh, I remember you don't like the book, but it
is beautifully written, Frank, in beautiful simple rhythmic English. It
sings itself to the ear. Lady Dorothy" (how he loved the title!) "was
always kind to me, but London is horrible. I could not live in London
again. I must go away out of England. Do you remember talking to me,
Frank, of France?" and he put both his hands on my shoulders, while
tears ran down his face, and sighs broke from him. "Beautiful France,
the one country in the world where they care for humane ideals and the
humane life. Ah! if only I had gone with you to France," and the tears
poured down his cheeks and our hands met convulsively.

"I'm glad to see you looking so well," I began again. "Books you shall
have; for God's sake keep your heart up, and I will come back and see
you, and don't forget you have good friends outside; lots of us!"

"Thank you, Frank; but take care, won't you, and remember your promise
not to tell."

I nodded in assent and went to the door. The warder came in.

"The interview is over," I said; "will you take me downstairs?"

"If you will not mind sitting here, sir," he said, "for a minute. I must
take him back first."