He turned to Cartoner.

“And you?  When do you go to Spain?”

“To-night,” was the answer.

“Then good-bye.”  The Frenchman held out his hand, and in a moment was at the door.  Lady Orlay followed him out of the room and closed the door behind her.  She followed him down-stairs.  In the hall they stood and looked at each other in silence.  There were tears in the woman’s eyes.  But Deulin’s smile was sadder.

“And this is the end,” he said—­“the end!”

“No,” said Lady Orlay; “it is not.  It cannot be.  I have never known a great happiness yet that was not built upon the wreckage of other happinesses.  That is why happy people are never gay.  It is not the end, Paul.  Heaven is kind.”

“Sometimes,” answered Deulin, grudgingly.  On the door-step he paused, and, facing her suddenly, he made a gesture indicating himself, commanding her attention to his long life and story.  “Sometimes, milady.”