"Miss Rand!... Is that certain?"
"Quite."
"Ah, well, Seddon's got her all right. They'll be happy as anything." He sighed. "You know, Miss Rand, Rachel and I have been fighting the old lady, and we seem to have won ... but I'm not sure whether, after all, she hasn't!"
On the step he paused.
"I'm sticking to Candles, I've got work. I'm recognized again. I've got that little bit of Rachel that she gave me and that nobody else can have, and—I've got you for a friend—Not so bad after all!"
He laughed, opened the door for her, and then as they stood in the dark little hall he said:
"All along you've been such a friend for me. I want someone like you—someone strong and sensible, without my rotten sentiment and impulses. We'll always be friends, won't we?"
He held her hand.
"Always," she said, smiling at him.
But, perhaps, to both of them there came, just then, sighing through the dark still hall, a breath, a whisper, of that hour when life had been at its intensest, that hour when Breton had held Rachel in his arms, that hour when Lizzie had dressed, with trembling hands, for the theatre....