“What is it? Philip, what is it?”
He pointed with steady finger. The truth seemed to come to him by inspiration.
“It is Sylvanus Power’s message to you,” he replied. “The theatre!”
There were flames now, leaping up to the sky. Together they watched them and listened to the shrieking of sirens and whistles as the fire engines galloped by from every section of the city. There was a strange look in Elizabeth’s face as she watched the curling flames.
“Philip,” she whispered, “thank God! There it goes, all his great offering to me! It’s like the man and his motto—’A man may do what he will with his own.’ Only last night I felt as though I would give anything in the world never to stand upon the stage of that theatre again. He doesn’t know it, Philip, but his is a precious gift.”
He passed his arm around her and drew her from the window.
“‘A man may do what he will with his own,’” he repeated. “Well, it isn’t such a bad motto. Sylvanus Power may destroy a million-dollar theatre for a whim, but so far as you and I are concerned—”
She sighed with content.
“We do both need a holiday,” she murmured. “Somewhere in Europe, I think.”