ter, Helen had said: "Ronnie, we
will have a Christmas-tree this Christmas." Why had Helen said that? He
had fully intended to ask her, but had not thought of it from that hour
to this.

Possibly it was just a wish to yield to his whim in the matter. Perhaps
she was planning to have all the little Simpkins kids up to the house.

Well, if Helen spent Christmas with the Dalmains, she would come in for
little Geoff's Christmas-tree, which would certainly be a beauty.

He plodded heavily on. He felt extraordinarily lonely. Would Helen miss
him? Hardly. You do not miss a selfish person. He would miss
Helen--horribly; but then Helen was not selfish. She was quite the most
unselfish person he had ever known.

He went over in his mind all the times when Helen had instantly given up
a thing at his wish. Amongst others, he remembered how, on that spring
morning so long ago, when he had told her of his new book and of his
plan, she had been wanting to tell him something, yet he had allowed her
interest to remain untold, when she threw herself heart and soul into
his. He began to wonder what it could have been; and whether it would be
too late to ask her now.

At last he reached the house, and felt slightly cheered to see lights
and fires within. He had almost anticipated darkness.

Mrs. Blake herself opened the door, resplendent in black satin; lavender
ribbons in her lace cap.

"La, sir!" she said. "Fancy you walking from the station! You must
please to excuse Simpkins being out. He has some Christmasing on at the
lodge, for his fam'ly."

"I know," said Ronnie. "I saw a Christmas-tree as I passed. I shall not
require Simpkins. Blake, is there a fire in the studio?"

"There is, sir, a fine one, for the good of the piano. There is also a
fire in the sitting-room, sir, where I will at once send in some tea."

"No, not there," said Ronnie quickly. "I will have tea in the studio."

But Mrs. Blake was firm. "That I couldn't ever, sir! Mrs. West wouldn't
wish it. She thinks so much of you having tea in her sitting-room, and
beside her fire; which is much more, so to say, cosy than that great
unfurnished room, all looking-glass."

At mention of the mirror Ronnie shivered, and yielded. He had almost
forgotten the mirror.

So he sat in his own favourite chair, while Blake stood and poured out
his first cup of tea, then left him to the utter loneliness of being in
that room without Helen.

It is doubtful whether Ronnie had