“If I had only known it!” answered Lashmar, the victor’s smile softened with self-reproach.  “My ambition has much to answer for.  Forgive me, Iris.”

“There’s something else I must say, dear,” she murmured.  “After all, I have so little—­and there is Len, you know—­”

“Why, of course.  Do you imagine I should wish to rob him?”

“No, no, no!” she panted.  “But it is such a small income, after all.  I’m afraid we ought to—­to be careful, at first—­”

“Of course we must.  We shall live as simply as possible.  And then, you mustn’t suppose that I shall never earn money.  It’s only waiting for one’s opportunity.”

A silence fell between them.  Lashmar’s amorous countenance had an under-note of thoughtfulness; Iris, smiling blissfully, none the less reflected.

“What are you thinking of?” he asked, gently.

“Only how happy I am.  I haven’t the slightest fear.  I know you have great things before you.  Of course we must make use of our friends.  May I write to Mrs. Toplady, and tell her?”

She spoke without looking at him, and so was spared the interpretation of muscular twitches.

“Certainly.  Do you know whether she is still in London?”

“I don’t know, but probably not.  Don’t you think she may be very useful to us?  I have always found her very nice and kind, and she knows such hosts of people.”

Lashmar had his own thoughts about Mrs. Toplady, but the advantage of her friendship was undeniable.  Happily, he had put it out of her power to injure him by any revelations she might make concerning May Tomalin; his avowal to Iris that May had been undisguisedly in love with him would suffice to explain anything she might hear about the tragi-comedy at Rivenoak.  Whether the lady of Pont Street could be depended upon for genuine good will, was a question that must remain unsettled until he had seen her again.  She had bidden him to call upon her, at all events, and plainly it would be advisable to do so as soon as possible.

“Yes,” he answered, reflectively.  “She is a person to be reckoned with.  It’s possible her advice might he worth something in the difficulty about Liberal or Conservative.  She is intelligent enough, I think, to understand me on that point.  Yes, you might write to her at once.  If I were you, I would speak quite frankly.  You know her well enough for that, don’t you?”

“Frankly?  How?”

“Oh, I mean that you might say we have really been fond of each other for a long time—­and that—­well, that fate has brought us together in spite of everything that kind of thing, you know.”

“Yes, yes!” exclaimed Iris.  “That’s just what I should like to say.”