I looked on her calm face. I knew she did not regret her part! I rose,
and, without a word, I passed out at the wide door, and, without
looking back, I passed down the slope in the dusk, and left them
together--the woman I had loved, and the friend I had lost!

* * * * *

As his voice died away, he sat upright quickly, threw a glance about
the circle, and, with another fine gesture said: "_Et voila_!"

The Doctor was the only one to really laugh, though a broad grin ran
round the circle.

"Well," remarked the Doctor, who had been leaning against a tree, and
indulging in shrugs and an occasional groan, which had not even
disconcerted the story teller, "I suppose that is how that very great
man, your governor, did the trick. I can see him in every word."

"That is all you know about it," laughed the Sculptor. "That is not a
bit how the governor did it. That is how I should have done it, had I
been the governor, and had the old man's chances. I call that an ideal
thing to happen to a man."

"Not even founded on fact--which might have been some excuse for
telling it," groaned the Critic. "I'd love to write a review of that
story. I'd polish it off."

"Of course you would," sneered the Sculptor. "That's all a critic is
for--to polish off the tales he can't write. I call that a nice
romantic, ideal tale for a sculptor to conceive, and as the Doctor