May went out with the booming of shotted guns beyond the, Southern horizon, amid rumours of dead zouaves and cavalrymen somewhere beyond Alexandria.  And on that day the 7th Regiment returned to garrison the city, and the anxious city cheered its return, and people slept more soundly for it, though all day long the streets echoed with the music of troops departing, and of regiments parading for a last inspection before the last good-byes were said.

Berkley saw some of this from his window.  Never perfectly sober now, he seldom left his rooms except at night; and all day long he read, or brooded, or lay listless, or as near drunk as he ever could be, indifferent, neither patient nor impatient with a life he no longer cared enough about to either use or take.

There were intervals when the deep despair within him awoke quivering; instants of fierce grief instantly controlled, throttled; moments of listless relaxation when some particularly contemptible trait in Burgess faintly amused him, or some attempted invasion of his miserable seclusion provoked a sneer or a haggard smile, or perhaps an uneasiness less ignoble, as when, possibly, the brief series of letters began and ended between him and the dancing girl of the Canterbury.

  “DEAR MR. BERKLEY: 
  “Could you come for me after the theatre this evening? 
  “LETITIA LYNDEN.”

  “DEAR LETTY: 
  “I’m afraid I couldn’t. 
  “Very truly yours,
    “P.  O. BERKLEY.”

“DEAR MR. BERKLEY:  “Am I not to see you again?  I think perhaps you might care to hear that I have been doing what you wished ever since that night.  I have also written home, but nobody has replied.  I don’t think they want me now.  It is a little lonely, being what you wish me to be.  I thought you might come sometimes.  Could you?  “LETITIA LYNDEN.”

“DEAR LETITIA:  “I seem to be winning my bet, but nobody can ever tell.  Wait for a while and then write home again.  Meantime, why not make bonnets?  If you want to, I’ll see that you get a chance.  “P.  O. BERKLEY.”

“DEAR MR. BERKLEY:  “I don’t know how.  I never had any skill.  I was assistant in a physician’s office—­once.  Thank you for your kind and good offer—­for all your goodness to me.  I wish I could see you sometimes.  You have been better to me than any man.  Could I?  “LETTY.”

  “DEAR LETTY: 
  “Why not try some physician’s office?”

“DEAR MR. BERKLEY:  “Do you wish me to?  Would you see me sometimes if I left the Canterbury?  It is so lonely—­you don’t know, Mr. Berkley, how lonely it is to be what you wish me to be.  Please only come and speak to me.  “LETTY.”

“DEAR LETTY:  “Here is a card to a nice doctor, Phineas Benton, M.D.  I have not seen him in years; he remembers me as I was.  You will not, of course, disillusion him.  I’ve had to lie to him about you—­and