on a footrest. He would sit for hours
staring at them in lamentable contemplation. He could measure his span
of life from day to day as the swelling rose or sank. On his good days
they wheeled him from his bedroom at the back to the front sitting-room.

And through it all, as by some miracle, he preserved his air of
suffering integrity.

It was quite plain to Ranny that his father could not live long. And if
he died? Even in his pity and his grief Ranny could not help wondering
whether, if his father died any time that year, it would not make a
difference, whether it would not, perhaps, at the last moment prevent
his marrying?

Partly in defiance of this fear, partly by way of committing himself
irretrievably, he resolved to speak to Winny. He desired to be
irretrievably committed, so that, whatever happened, decency alone would
prevent him from drawing back. Though he could not in as many words ask
Winny to marry him before he was actually free, there were things that
could be said, and he saw no earthly reason why he should not say them.

For this purpose he chose, in sheer decency, one of his father's good
days which happened to be a fine, warm one in May and a Saturday. He had
arranged with Winny beforehand that she should come over as early as
possible in the afternoon and stay for tea. He now suggested that, as
this Saturday was such a Saturday as they might never see again, it
would be a good plan if they were to go somewhere together.

"Where?" said Winny.

Wherever she liked, he said, provided it was somewhere where they'd
never been before. And Winny, trying to think of something not too
expensive, said, "How about the tram to Putney Heath?"

"Putney Heath," Ranny said, "be blowed!"

"Well, then--how about Hampton Court or Kew?"

But he was "on to" her. "Rot!" he said. "You've been there."

"Well--" Obviously she was meditating something equally absurd.

"What d'you say to Windsor?"

But Winny absolutely refused to go to Windsor. She said there was one
place she'd never been to, and that was Golder's Hill. You could get tea
there.

"Right--O!" said Ranny. "We'll go to Golder's Hill."

"And take the children," Winny said.

Well, no, he rather thought he'd leave the kids behind for once.

"Oh, Ranny!" Voice and eyes reproached him. "You couldn't! You may never
get a day like this again."

"I know. That's why," said Ranny.

The kids, Stanley, aged three, and Dossie, aged five, understanding