Her last words sounded almost like a half-laughing menace.

"Why should I want others to trust it?" he asked, quietly.

"I leave your instinct to tell you that, my dear Doctor," she answered
gently, with a smile.

"Well," he said, "I must say good-bye. I must leave you to your inner
resources. You haven't told me what they are."

"Can't you imagine?"

"Spiritual, I suppose!"

"You've guessed it--clever man!"

"And your gospel of Materialism, which you preached to me so powerfully,
gambling, yachting, racing, motoring, theatre-going, eating and
drinking, in the 'for to-morrow we die' mood: those pleasures of the
typical worldly life of to-day which you said you delighted in? You have
replaced them all satisfactorily with 'inner resources'?"

"With inner resources."

Her smiling eyes did not shrink from his. He thought they looked hard as
two blue and shining jewels under their painted brows.

"Good-bye--and come again."

While Isaacson walked slowly down the corridor, Mrs. Chepstow opened her