Peace in my soul.

Forgive, Great Master, forgive Thy wandering sheep! I have strayed, my Lord, far—

I repent—I come—

ASHES

It was a large house on the outskirts of the town.

In the living room a fire blazed. Soft shaded lights—a contrast to the blizzard raging outside.

A small gathering of people for informal afternoon tea.

Lydia Stuart had come in rather late. She sat comfortably on a huge divan near the fire.

A picturesque magnetic figure, dressed in purple, with beautiful warm furs.