n or delay always set him chafing.

Jeanie looked at him with wonder in her eyes. "But you, Piers!" she
said. "What will you do?"

"I? Oh, I shall be busy," he said. "I've got a lot on hand just now.
Besides," again the gibing note was in his voice, "you'll get along much
better without me. Avery says so."

"She didn't!" exclaimed Jeanie, with a sudden rare touch of indignation.

"All right. She didn't," laughed Piers. "My mistake!" He flicked the
child's cheek teasingly, and then abruptly stooped and kissed it. "Don't
be angry, Queen of the fairies! It isn't worth it."

She slipped her arm round his neck on the instant. "I'm not, dear Piers.
I'm not angry. But we shouldn't want to go away and leave you alone. We
shouldn't really."

He laughed again, carelessly, without effort. "No, but you'd get on all
right without me. You and Avery are such pals. What do you say to it,
Avery? Isn't it a good idea?"

"I think perhaps it is," she said slowly, her voice very low.

He straightened himself, and looked at her, and again that vivid, painful
blush covered her face and neck as though a flame had scorched her. She
did not meet his eyes.

"Very well then. It's settled," he said jauntily. "Now let's go and have
some dinner!"

He kept up his light attitude throughout the meal, save that once he
raised his wine-glass mockingly to the woman on the wall. But his mood
was elusive. Avery felt it. It was as if he played a juggling game on the
edge of the pit of destruction, and she watched him with a leaden heart.

She rose from the table earlier than usual, for the atmosphere of the
dining-room oppressed her almost unbearably. It was a night of heavy
stillness.

"You ought to go to bed, dear," she said to Jeanie.

"Oh, must I?" said Jeanie wistfully. "I never sleep much on these hot
nights. One can't breath so well lying down."

Avery looked at her with quick anxiety, but she had turned to Piers and
was leaning against him with a gentle coaxing air.

"Please, dear Piers, would it tire you to play to us?" she begged.

He looked down at her for a moment as if he would refuse; then very
gently he laid his hand on her head, pressing back the heavy, clustering
hair from her forehead to look into her soft eyes.

"What do you want me to play?" he said.

She made a wide gesture of the hands and let them fall. "Something big,"
she said. "Something to take to bed with us and give us happy dreams."

His lips--those mobile,