understand for the first time that even a Bank Holiday need not be
a day of wrath and mourning. Do repeat your visit. And as I know
you are always so busy telling people how perfectly healthy they
are, come next Sunday to tea at five. I shall keep out the
clamouring crowd, so that we may discuss any high matter that
occurs to us."

Yours sincerely,

"Ruby Chepstow."

It was Wednesday when Isaacson read, and re-read, this note. He
regretted the days that must intervene before the Sunday came. For he
feared to repent his betrayal. And the note did not banish this fear.
More than once he did repent. Then he and Nigel met and again he gave
conscious help to his heart. He did not speak to Nigel of the projected
visit, and Nigel did not say anything more about Mrs. Chepstow. Isaacson
wondered at this reserve, which seemed to him unnatural in Nigel. More
than once he found himself thinking that Nigel regretted what he had
said about the possibility of Mrs. Chepstow visiting Egypt. But of this
he could not be sure. On Sunday, at a few minutes past five, he arrived
at the Savoy, and was taken to Mrs. Chepstow's room.

The autumn darkness had closed over London, and when he came into the
room, which was empty, the curtains were drawn, the light shone, a fire
was blazing on the hearth. Not far from it was placed a tea-table, close
to a big sofa which stood out at right angles from the wall.

There were quantities of white carnations in vases on the mantel-piece,
on the writing-table, and on the top of the rosewood piano. The piano