Then what about your mother? What about all women who--

ROGER

About mother?

MARGARET

Yes. Wasn't her love a part of life? And didn't she keep on loving him in spite of everything? Is that love blind and foolish--something for your old evolution to get rid of?

ROGER

I never thought of it. No, of course we don't want to get rid of _that_--but even so, she didn't save him.

MARGARET

She didn't know about it until lately--thanks to you. If she had known sooner--and anyhow, you don't know--Of course, she couldn't have saved him directly. But indirectly ... through another woman--

ROGER

Through another woman?

MARGARET

I mean, supposing there was another woman who loved him--one who could be to him all he needed, who would understand, and who was all right. One he could marry.

ROGER

Yes, but--

MARGARET

And supposing this other woman had heard things about Arthur, and was terribly hurt, and Arthur knew she was, and that's why he kept away; but your mother talked with her for a long while, and made her understand.

Even sent for _that_ woman--you know. And then this woman, the right one, did understand, and was ready to marry Arthur....

ROGER

Margaret, are you crying? Are you crying, Margaret? _Margaret, was it you?_

THE TELEGRAM

_Perron, a stout, middle-aged figure, is seated in front of his watchmaker's establishment near the Place St. Sulpice. The awning sags, and the shop wears an air of sober discouragement. Whatever expression the years have left Perron's round face capable of is concentrated upon the changing scenes cinematographed to his mind's eye by some strong and unusual emotion. Alexandre, a tall, stooped man, with a flowing black tie, bows in pa.s.sing with old-fashioned punctiliousness to Perron, who apparently is unaware of his presence. Suddenly Perron starts, rubs his eyes, and glares about._

PERRON

Alexandre! Alexandre!

ALEXANDRE

Good day, my friend. You seem distraught.

PERRON

Distraught! It was the strangest thing! But sit here with me. Do. I have something to tell you.

ALEXANDRE

I regret exceedingly, but a stupid engagement.... Later, perhaps--

PERRON

No! No! I insist! Only a great mind like yours can explain the strange thing which has happened.

ALEXANDRE

Ah, in that case--what is a mere business affair compared with divine philosophy? Far from being presse, friend Perron, I have an eternity at your service.

PERRON

First of all, tell me the exact date!

ALEXANDRE

That I can do, and not on my own authority, which in such details is often unreliable. This morning my concierge announced with great delicacy and feeling that to-day is Friday, the fifteenth July, and my rent is once more due. My rent, which--

PERRON

Friday the fifteenth! Impossible!

ALEXANDRE

Alas. My concierge is of a precision the most meticulous. For all legal, financial and military affairs, throughout the French Republic at least, to-day is Friday the fifteenth. But why should this seem impossible to you, a scientist and a watchmaker?

PERRON

Only listen, and you will understand why I am tempted to doubt the calendar of the Church itself. Two weeks ago my wife announced to me that she had reason to expect the due arrival of a son. She said there could be no question it will be a son because in her mother's family for three generations it has been the same, three daughters followed by a son.

Eh bien, although I have always desired a son to follow me in this honorable and scientific profession, nevertheless I received the news with a certain consternation. In short, my affairs have not gone too well of late, and without my wife's a.s.sistance by her needle....

That evening I thought much how I might increase my funds, and so for two weeks--two weeks, mon ami--I have omitted my customary cafe after dejeuner, which all these years I have not failed to take with a serious group of friends at the Trois Arts, and even have I smoked no cigarettes.

True, this has not added much to our wealth, though it has been some satisfaction to realize I have done my possible. My health has suffered somewhat--I have grown absent-minded, and in the morning my head feels strange. However, that may not be due entirely to my unnatural abstinence.

However, on Friday the fifteenth July, at three o'clock precisely, as I sat here in meditation having finished a small work, I saw a telegraph boy hurry toward me down the street. Then had I a premonition. My heart beat as it has not these twenty years. In an instant I was reading the message: my brother, who long ago ran away on adventure to Indo-China, had just died and left me a fortune in tea.