Suddenly he drew himself upright.
"That wouldn't help, would it ?" he said simply.

"Thank you, all the same, Nora.

Good-by!" On his table, when he entered his rooms that night, lay the letter for which he had craved.

He opened it almost fiercely.

The few lines seemed like a message of hope: "Don't laugh at me, dear friend, but I am coming to London for a week or two, to my little house in Charles Street.