They were wonderful, these two strong men who were hers. And in
this moment they WERE her own. Neither spoke for a space, as they
stood, hand clasping hand, and in that space, brief as it was, she
saw that they measured each other as completely as man ever
measured man; and that it was not satisfaction alone, but
something deeper and more wonderful to her, that began to show in
their faces. It was as if they had forgotten her presence in this
meeting, and for a moment she, too, forgot that everything was not
real. Moved by an impulse that made her breath quicken, she darted
to them and caught their two clasped hands in both her own. Her
face was glorious as she looked up at them,

"I'm glad, glad that you like each other," she cried softly. "I
knew that it would be so, because--"

The master of Adare House had drawn her to him again. She put out
a hand, and it rested on Philip's shoulder. Her eyes turned
directly to him, and he alone saw the swift ebbing of the joyous
light from them. John Adare's voice rumbled happily, and with his
grizzled face bowed in Josephine's hair he said:

"I guess I'm not sorry--but glad, Mignonne." He looked at Philip
again. "Paul, my son, you are welcome to Adare House!"

"Philip, Mon Pere," corrected Josephine. "I like that better than
Paul."

"And you?" said Philip, smiling straight into Adare's eyes. "I am
almost afraid to keep my promise to Josephine. It was that I
should call you mon pere, too."