It was a tempting offer to make Keith.

The old man had been a shrewd negotiator.
There is no success so sweet as that which comes to a young man.
That night Keith spent out under the stars.

Success had come.

And its other name was Alice Yorke.
The way before Keith still stretched steep enough, but the light was on it, the sunshine caught peak after peak high up among the clouds themselves, and crowning the highest point, bathed in perpetual sunlight, was the image of Alice Yorke.
Alice Yorke had been abroad now for some time; but he had followed her.
Often when his work was done he had locked his door and shut himself in from the turmoil of the bustling, noisy throng outside to dream of her--to read and study that he might become worthy of her.
He had just seen by the papers that Alice Yorke had returned.
She had escaped the dangers of a foreign service; but, by the account, she was the belle of the season at the watering-place which she was honoring with her presence.

As he read the account, a little jealousy crept into the satisfaction which he had felt as he began.