even then the mingled purity and priggishness encouraged by years of
repression forbade any vital change in his sentiments. The toleration
for which he sought, when it made its grudging appearance, was mingled
with dislike and distrust. He breathed more freely as he turned into
the quieter street in which his rooms were situated, passing them by,
however, crossing Curzon Street and embarking upon a brief pilgrimage
which had become almost a nightly one. Within a very few minutes he
paused before a certain number in a street even more secluded than his
own. At last the thing which he had so greatly anticipated had
happened. There were lights in the house from top to bottom. Jane had
arrived!

He walked slowly back and forth several times. The music in his blood,
stirred already by the wine he had drunk and the revival of old
memories, moved to a new and more wonderful tune. He knew now, without
any possibility of self-deception, exactly what he had been waiting for,
exactly where all his thoughts and hopes for the future were centered.
Was she there now, he wondered, gazing at the windows like a moon-struck
boy. He lingered about and fate was kind to him.

A limousine swung around the corner and pulled up in front of the door,
a few minutes later. The footman on the box sprang down. He heard her
voice as she said "Good-by" to some one. The car rolled smoothly away.
She crossed the pavement with an involuntary glance at the tall,
approaching figure.

"Jane!" he exclaimed.

She stood quite still, with the latch-key in her hand. The car was out
of sight now and they seemed to be almost alone in the street. At first