own in the grey precincts of Lincoln's Inn,
which, it may be, had rarely seen two young things prancing along so
dementedly. In the street they had to sober down, to outward seeming;
but there was still something about them, as they hurried off to find a
teashop to discuss final details, that made people turn to look at
them. Even the waitress beamed on them, and supplied them with her
best cakes--and London waitresses are a bored race. But at the moment,
neither Cecilia nor Bob could have told you whether they were eating
cakes or sausages.

"The money is all right," Bob said. "It'll be available at a Melbourne
bank when we get there; and meanwhile, there's plenty of ready money,
with what I've saved and my war gratuity. So if you want anything,
Tommy, you just say so, and don't go without any pretties just because
you think we'll be in the workhouse."

"Bless you--but I don't really need anything," she told him gratefully.
"It would be nice to have a little money to spend at the ports, but I
think we ought to keep the rest for Australia, don't you, Bob?"

"Oh, yes, of course; but you're not to go without a few pounds if you
want 'em," said Bob. "And, Tommy, don't leave meeting me on Friday until
lunch time. I'll be worrying if you do, just in case things may have
gone wrong. Make it eleven o'clock at the Bond Street tube exit, and if
you're not there in half an hour I'll jolly well go and fetch you."

"I'll be there," Cecilia nodded. "You had better give me the half-hour's
grace, though, in case I might be held up at the last moment. One never
knows--and Avice and Wilfred are excellent little watchdogs."

"Anyhow, you won't have the she-dragon to reckon with, and that's a
big thing," Bob said. "I don't see how you can have any trouble--Papa
certainly will not give you any."

"No, he won't bother," said Cecilia slowly. "It's queer to think how
little he counts--our own father."

"A pretty shoddy apology for one, I think," Bob said bitterly. "What has
he ever done for us? But I'd forgive him that when I can't forgive him
something else--the way he has let you be treated these two years."

"He hasn't known everything, Bobby."

"He has known quite enough. And if he had the spirit of a man he'd have
saved you from it. No; we don't owe him any consideration, Tommy; and
he saw to it years ago that we should never owe him any affection. So
we really needn't worry our heads about him. By the way, there are to be
some