ss Bengough, but without a smile.

"Thank you, but I don't think so. After all each of us has his own life
to live," he could not refrain from adding.

"His own life to live!... How long is it since you were out, Paul?"

"About two hours."

"I don't mean to buy stamps or to post a letter. How long is it since you
had anything like a stretch?"

"Oh, some little time perhaps. I don't know."

"Since I was here last?"

"I haven't been out much."

"And has _Romilly_ progressed much better for your being cooped up?"

"I think she has. I'm laying the foundations of her. I shall begin the
actual writing presently."

It seemed as if Miss Bengough had forgotten their tussle about the first
_Romilly_. She frowned, turned half away, and then quickly turned again.

"Ah!... So you've still got that ridiculous idea in your head?"

"If you mean," said Oleron slowly, "that I've discarded the old
_Romilly_, and am at work on a new one, you're right. I have still got
that idea in my head."

Something uncordial in his tone struck her; but she was a fighter. His
own absurd sensitiveness hardened her. She gave a "Pshaw!" of impatience.

"Where is the old one?" she demanded abruptly.

"Why?" asked Oleron.

"I want to see it. I want to show some of it to you. I want, if you're
not wool-gathering entirely, to bring you back to your senses."

This time it was he who turned his back. But when he turned round again
he spoke more gently.

"It's no good, Elsie. I'm responsible for the way I go, and you must
allow me to go it--even if it should seem wrong to you. Believe me, I
am giving thought to it.... The manuscript? I was on the point of burning
it, but I didn't. It's in that window-seat, if you must see it."

Miss Bengough crossed quickly to the window-seat, and lifted the lid.
Suddenly she gave a little exclamation, and put the back of her hand
to her mouth. She spoke over her shoulder:

"You ought to knock those nails in, Paul," she said.

He strode to her side.

"What? What is it? What's the matter?" he asked. "I did knock them
in--or, rather, pulled them out."

"You left enough to scratch with," she replied, showing her hand. From
the upper wrist to the knuckle of the little finger a welling red wound
showed.

"Good--Gracious!" Oleron ejaculated.... "Here, come to the bathroom and
bathe it quickly--"

He hurried her to the bathroom, turned on warm water, and bathed and
cleansed the bad gash. Then, still holdin