ff with me than she ever could be with you.
Perhaps my maternal instinct has gone off the lines a bit and fixed
itself on Lily. And yet I don't think it's anything so sickly as
sentimental mothering. No, I believe I just like to sit and look at
her. Lily's rather cross with me for taking her away from "such a
nice boy." Does that please you? And doesn't it exactly describe
you? However, I won't crow. Don't break the lusters, when you read
this. They belong to Fatty. What I suggest for you is a walk in
Kensington Gardens to the refrain of "Blast the whole bloody
world!" Now look shocked, my little Vandyck.

S. S.

Michael tore the letter up. He did not want to read and re-read it for
the rest of the day. His eyelids were pricking unpleasantly, and he went
out to find Mrs. Gainsborough. He was really sensitive that even a room
should witness such a discomfiture. The landlady was downstairs in the
kitchen, where he had not yet been. In this room of copper pots and
pans, with only the garden in view, she might have been a farmer's wife.

"Sit down," she said. "And make yourself at home."

"Will you sit down?" Michael asked.

"Oh, well, yes, if it's any pleasure to you." She took off her apron and
seated herself, smoothing the bombasine skirt over her knees.

A tabby cat purred between them; a kettle was singing; and there was a
smell of allspice.

"You really don't know where the girls have gone?" Michael began.

"No more than you do," she assured him. "But that Sylvia is really a
Turk."

"I suppose Lily didn't tell you that I used to know her six years ago?"
he asked.

"Oh, yes, she talked about you a lot. A good deal more than Miss Sylvia
liked, that's a sure thing."

"Well, do you think it's fair for Sylvia to carry her off like this? I
want to marry Lily, Mrs. Gainsborough."

"There, only fancy what a daring that Sylvia has. She's a nice girl, and
very high-spirited, but she _is_ a Miss Dictatorial."

Michael felt encouraged by Mrs. Gainsborough's attitude, and he made up
his mind to throw himself upon her mercy. Sentiment would be his only
weapon, and he found some irony in the reflection that he had set out
this morning to be a brutal cynic in his treatment of the situation.

"Do you think it's fair to try to prevent Lily from marrying me? You
know as well as I do that the life she's leading now isn't going to be
the best life possible for her. You're