But might it not be true, after all?
What was this wonderful thing that had happened to him?
Was this less strange than a miracle?
Less divine?
The following day Vandover rented a studio.

It was the lofty room with hardwood floors and the immense north light in that suite which he had rejected when looking for rooms on the former occasion.

He gave notice to the clerk in the apartment house where his quarters were situated that he intended to vacate after the first of the month.

Charming as he had found these rooms, he gave up, with scarcely a regret, the idea of living in them any longer.

In a month it would be summer and he would be on his way to Paris.
But so great was his desire for work now, so eager was he to start the "Last Enemy," so strong was the new energy that shook him, that Vandover could not wait until summer to begin work again.