He must marry: that admitted of no doubt. In the glow of his own hearth he must begin a new and more tonic life.
Marry? But whom? A worn out heart can no longer be made to beat more swiftly at the sight of some slim maiden. The senses might yet be stirred, but that is all.
Was he to haunt watering-places and pay court to mothers on the man-hunt in order to find favour in their daughters' eyes? Was he to travel from estate to estate and alienate the affection of young chatelaines from their favourite lieutenants?
Impossible!
He went home hopelessly enough and drowsed away the hours of the afternoon behind drawn blinds on a hot couch.
Toward evening the postman brought a letter—in Alice's hand. Alice! How could he have forgotten her! His first duty should have been to see her.
He opened the envelope, warmly grateful for her mere existence.
"DEAR FRIEND:—
As you will probably not find time before you leave the city to bid me farewell in person. I beg you to return to me a certain key which I gave into your keeping some years ago. You have no need of it and it worries me to have it lying about.
Don't think that I am at all angry. My friendship and my gratitude are yours, however far and long we may be separated. When, some day, we meet again, we will both have become different beings. With many blessings upon your way,