, as he saw Guy's
astonishment. "Now look here, what's the best present for Pauline? You
see, I'm not at all an artistic sort of chap, and I don't want to hoick
forward something that's going to be more of a nuisance than anything
else."

"It's really awfully difficult to choose," said Guy, rather ambiguously.

Then he discovered a simple ivory paper-knife which he declared was just
the thing, having the happy thought that he would not cut the set of
proofs he was binding for Pauline, so that to-morrow Richard could have
the pleasure of beholding his gift put to immediate use.

"You've chosen the smallest thing of the lot," said the disappointed
donor. "You don't think a shawl as well?" he asked, holding up yards of
gaudy material.

"Well, candidly, I think Pauline's too fair for that color scheme, don't
you?"

"All right, the paper-knife. You don't mind if I leave these things here
till Godbold can fetch them away, and ... er.... I wish you'd choose
something for yourself. I've always taken a kind of interest in this
house, don't you know, and I've often thought about it in India."

"I'd like a gong," said Guy at once, and Richard was obviously
gratified by his quick choice, and still further gratified when Guy
suggested they should sound it immediately outside the kitchen door.
Solemnly Richard held it up in the passage, while Guy crashed forth a
glorious clamor, at the summons of which Miss Peasey came rushing out.

"Good gracious!" she gasped. "I thought that dog Bob had jumped through
the window."

"This is a present for us from India," Guy shouted.

"Oh, that's extremely handsome, isn't it? Well now, I shall expect you
to be punctual in future for your meals. Dear me, yes, quite a variety,
I'm sure, after that measly bell."

The gong was given a prominent position in the bare hall, and Guy
invited Richard up to his own room. After the question of the presents
had been solved Richard was shy and silent again, and Guy found it very
hard to make conversation. Several times his visitor seemed on the point
of getting something off his mind, but when he was given an opportunity
for speech he never accepted it. Desperate for a topic, Guy showed him
the proofs of the poems, and explained that he was binding them roughly
as his present to Pauline to-morrow.

"That's something I can't understand," said Richard, intensely.
"Writing! It beats me!"

"Bridges would beat me," said Guy.

Richard looked quite chee