developed capacities unsuspected in him before. The others followed his
flight breathless, afraid to touch him lest he should break and disappear
under their hands.

By the time Majendie had done with him, the ex-member had entered on a
joyous immortality in Scale.

And in the middle of it all Anne laughed.

Miss Proctor was the first to recover from the surprise of it. She leaned
across the table with a liberal and vivid smile, opulent in appreciation.

"Well, Mr. Majendie, Sir Rigley ought to be grateful to you. If ever
there was a dull subject dead and buried, it was he, poor man. And now
the difficulty will be to forget him."

"I don't think," said Majendie gravely, "I shall forget him myself in a
hurry."

Oh no, he never would forget Sir Rigley. He didn't want to forget him. He
would be grateful to him as long as he lived. He had made Anne laugh. A
girl's laugh, young and deliciously uncontrollable, springing from the
immortal heart of joy.

It was the first time he had heard her laugh so. He didn't know she could
do it. The hope of hearing her do it again would give him something to
live for. He would win her yet if he could make her laugh.

Anne was more surprised than anybody, at him and at herself. It was a
revelation to her, his cleverness, his brilliant social gift. She was