rmured the words
into his neck, her arms tightening about him.

"What a silly little sweetheart!" he said. "Is that what you've been
crying for?"

She was silent.

He passed rapidly on. "You mustn't cry any more, darling. Old Reggie
will be here soon, you know. He'll think I've been bullying you. Have
you been sitting here by yourself all the morning? Why didn't you go
down to Daisy Musgrave?"

"I didn't want to, Nick. I--I don't in the least mind being by myself,"
she told him, mastering herself with difficulty. "Tell me what you've
been doing--all this time!"

"I?" said Nick. "Watching and listening chiefly. Not much else. Is the
post in? Come and help me read my letters!"

"They're here." Olga turned and began to feel about with one hand under
her work.

"All right. I'll find 'em." He let her go, and fished out his
correspondence himself. She was glad that he did not look at her very
critically or press further for the cause of her woe.

He sat down on the mat at her feet, and proceeded to read his letters as
she handed them to him.

After a little, she took up her work again. She had quite regained her
composure, only she was utterly weary--too weary to feel anything but a
numb aching. All violent emotion had passed.

Suddenly Nick dropped his correspondence, and turned. "Kiddie," he said.
"I'm going to chuck this job."

She looked down at him with a surprise that would have been greater but
for her great weariness. "Really, Nick?"

"Yes, really. I've done my poor best, but to make a success would be a
life job. Moreover," Nick's eyes suddenly gleamed, "the Party want
me--or say they do. There's going to be a big tug of war in the summer,
and they want me to help pull. I'm rather good at pulling," here spoke
Nick's innate modesty, "and so I've got to be there.'"

"We are going Home then?" Olga's voice was low. She spoke as one whom
the decision scarcely touched.

Nick leaned back luxuriously against her knees. "Yes, sweetheart,
Home--Home to Muriel and the kiddie--Home to good old Jim. You won't be
sorry to see your old Dad again?"

"No," she said; then, as his brows went up, she stooped forward and
kissed the top of his head. "But you've been very good to me, Nick," she
said. "I--I've been happier with you, dear, than I could have been with
anyone."

"Save one," said Nick, flashing a swift look upwards. "And you've struck
him off the list, poor beggar."

She checked him quickly, her hand on