corrected. "I've never lied to Jimmy in all my life." She drew herself
up with conscious pride. "And Jimmy has NEVER LIED TO ME."

"Isn't that nice," sniffed Zoie and she pretended to be searching for
her pocket-handkerchief.

But Aggie did not see her. She was glancing at the clock.

"I must go now," she said. And she started toward the door.

"But, Aggie----" protested Zoie, unwilling to be left alone.

"I'll run in again at tea time," promised Aggie.

"I don't mind the DAYS," whined Zoie, "but when NIGHT comes I just MUST
have somebody's arms around me."

"Zoie!" gasped Aggie, both shocked and alarmed.

"I can't help it," confessed Zoie; "the moment it gets dark I'm just
scared stiff."

"That's no way for a MOTHER to talk," reproved Aggie.

"A mother!" exclaimed Zoie, horrified at the sudden realisation that
this awful appellation would undoubtedly pursue her for the rest of
her life. "Oh, don't call me that," she pleaded. "You make me feel a
thousand years old."

"Nonsense," laughed Aggie, and before Zoie could again detain her she
was out of the room.

When the outside door had closed behind her friend, Zoie gazed about
the room disconsolately, but her depression was short-lived. Remembering
Aggie's permission about the letter, she ran quickly to the writing
table, curled her small self up on one foot, placed a brand new pen in
the holder, then drew a sheet of paper toward her and, with shoulders
hunched high and her face close to the paper after the manner of a
child, she began to pen the first of a series of veiled communications
that were ultimately to fill her young husband with amazement.

CHAPTER XI

When Jimmy reached his office after his unforeseen call upon Zoie, his
subsequent encounter with Alfred, and his enforced luncheon at home
with Aggie, he found his mail, his 'phone calls, and his neglected
appointments in a state of hopeless congestion, and try as he would, he
could not concentrate upon their disentanglement. Growing more and more
furious with the long legged secretary who stood at the corner of his
desk, looking down upon him expectantly, and waiting for his tardy
instructions, Jimmy rose and looked out of the window. He could feel
Andrew's reproachful eyes following him.

"Shall Miss Perkins take your letters now?" asked Andrew, and he
wondered how late the office staff would be kept to-night to make up for
the time that was now being wasted.

Coming after repeated wound