tyrdom; also at childishness.

For nearly an hour Luke sat with his manuscript before him. He was
writing another elegant little brochure. This one dealt with the
jam-pots of Ancient Assyria. During that hour he did not write one
single word, but thought continuously of Jona.

He pulled himself up abruptly. Why, he was married to Mabel. Of
course, he was. It was just as if he could not trust his memory for
anything these days. He had been rather rude to Mabel at breakfast.
Well, not rude exactly, but not friendly. Mrs. Smith had a sable
stole. He ought to have said something about it. He must try at once
to think of something that would be said about a sable stole.

He must make it up to Mabel in some way. What could he give her? He
could give her more of his society. He would stop work, go back to her
at once, and be just as nice as nice could be.

He put on his hat, and met Diggle in the passage.

"Where are you going?" said Diggle.

"I was going home, sir," said Luke, "I'm not very well this morning."

(For a Christian martyr he certainly did lie like sin.)

"Don't let it occur again," said Diggle.

He encountered Mabel in the hall of his house. She had a letter in her
hand. She seemed surprised to see him, and very far from pleased.

"What in goodness are you here for?" she said. "Forgotten something?"

He set his teeth. In spite of discouragement, he was going to be very
nice indeed.

"I am afraid," he said, "I rather forgot my manners at breakfast this
morning. Sorry."

"I didn't notice they were any worse than usual. You surely didn't
come back to say that?"

"Oh, no. I thought we'd take a holiday together. Like old times, what?
We'll go for a nice long walk, and take a packet of sandwiches
and----"

"Oh, don't be silly. I can't possibly go out. Probably Mr. Doom
Dagshaw is coming to lunch."

"He's a damned sweep," said Luke impulsively, and corrected himself.
"I mean to say, he's not a man whose society I'm particularly anxious
to cultivate."

"How was I to know you would come barging in like this? I never wanted
you to meet him."

More self-control needed.

"I shall be perfectly pleasant and chatty to him," said Luke
resolutely.

"This letter's just come for you," said Mabel. "The address is in Lady
Tyburn's handwriting."

He blushed profusely. His ears waved to and fro. Why on earth had not
Jona warned him that this was going to happen?

"Read it," said Mabel.

He glanced throug