Fitzgerald's impecuniosity and rapacity would not have risen to his
bait.

He was also grateful to Theodora--she had been so meek always, and such
a kind and unselfish nurse. With his impaired constitution and delicate
chest he had given up all hopes of looking on her as a wife again, just
yet; but, as a nurse and an ornament--a peg to hang the evidences of his
wealth upon--she was little short of perfection. He could have been
frantically in love with her if she had only been the girl from the
station bar in Melbourne. Josiah Brown was not a bad fellow.

By the time Mr. Toplington advanced in his dignified way with the
accurately measured tonic on a silver tray and the single acid drop to
remove the taste, Josiah Brown had decided to go and partake food with
his father-in-law at Henry's. If he had been good enough to entertain
the Governor of Australia, he was quite good enough for Russian princes
or English lords, he told himself. Thus it was that Captain Fitzgerald,
who came in person in a few minutes to indorse his invitation, found an
unusually cordial reception awaiting him.

"I am too delighted, my dear Josiah," he said, "that you have decided to
come out of your shell. Moping would kill a cat; and I shall order you
the plainest chicken and soufflé aux fraises."

"Josiah can eat almost anything, papa. I don't think you need worry
about that," said Theodora, who hoped to make her husband enjoy himself.
And then Captain Fitzgerald left to meet his widow.

All the morning, while she walked up and down under the trees in the
Avenue du Bois beside her husband, who leaned upon her arm, Theodora's