ou don't want to hurry things----"

"Don't I!"--rebelliously.

"If I'm very good and say 'Christmas'----"

"'Christmas!'--Great Caesar!"

"But, Tony----"

"Now see here--" he leaned forward and stared up at her, without touching
her--he was as yet allowed few of the lover's favours and prized them the
more for that--"do you think our case is just like other people's? Here
I've been waiting for you all my days--waiting and waiting, and tortured
all the time by suspense. Then I lived that month of July with my heart in
my mouth--you'll never know what you put me through those days, talking
and jollying about 'Eleanor Langham,' and never for one instant, until
just that last day, giving me the smallest pinch of hope that it was
anything to you except just what it pretended to be. Then--I've been a
long time without a home--and the little house--sweetheart--it looks like
Heaven to me. Must I stay outside till Christmas--when everything's all
ready? Confound it--I don't want to play the pathetic string, and the Lord
knows I'm happy as a fellow can be who's got the desire of his life.
But----"

A warm hand came gently upon his hair, and for joy at the touch he fell
silent. Once he turned his head and put his lips against the white sleeve
as it fell near, and looked up an instant with eyes whose expression the
person above him felt rather than saw through the subdued light. By and by
she took up the conversation.

"So you are rejoiced that I don't want a great wedding?"

"Immensely relieved."

"What would you like best?"

"I don't dare tell you."

"You may."

"Tell me what you would like, Julie."

"Of course father would say the town house, even if it were a small
affair. Auntie Dingley would probably agree to having it here--if that
were what you--we--wanted--that is----"

Anthony looked up quickly. "Even at Christmas?"

"Why--yes. We could come back. People do that sometimes."

"Yes. Must we do what other people do?"

"Would you rather not?"

"Ten thousand times. It seems to me that the biggest mistake people make
is the way they do this thing. Juliet--think of the little house. We made
it--you made it. For years, without doubt, it's to hold us and our
experiences. Do you know I'd like to give it this one to begin with?--I'm
holding my breath!"

Plainly she was holding hers. Her head was turned away--he could just see
her profile outlined against the ruby light. And at the moment there were
footstep