drew a deep, happy breath of Spring air. Then suddenly over all the
pleasure came a depressing black shadow. And yet what she had seen was
something which made most people smile and feel a little happier; a
couple of plump, gay young returned soldiers going down the street arm
in arm, and laughing uproariously at nothing at all for the sheer
pleasure of being at home. She turned away from the window feeling as
if some one had taken a piece of happiness away from her, and snatched
the nearest paper to read it, and take the taste of what she had seen
out of her mouth. It was a last night's paper with the back page full
of "symposium." She read a couple of the letters, and dropped the
paper and went back desperately to her filing cabinet.

"Cattell--Cattell----" she whispered to herself very fast, riffling
over the leaves desperately. Then she reverted to the symposium and
the soldiers. "Oh, dear, everybody on that page was writing letters to
know why they didn't get married," she said. "I wish somebody would
write letters telling why they _did_, or explain to those poor girls
that say nobody wants to marry a refined girl that they'd better leave
it alone!"

After that she hunted for the Cattell letter till she found it. Then
she took it to her superior, in the next room. Then she returned to
her work and rolled the paper up into a very small ball and dropped it
into the big wastebasket, and pushed it down with a small, neat
oxford-tied foot. Then she went to the window again restlessly, looked
out with caution, as if there might be more soldiers crossing the
street, and they might spring at her. But there were none; only a fat,
elderly gentleman gesticulating for a taxi and looking so exactly like
a _Saturday Evening Post_ cover that he almost cheered her. Marjorie
had a habit of picking up very small, amusing things and being amused
by them. And then into the office bounced the one girl she hadn't seen
that day.

"Oh, Mrs. Ellison, congratulations! I just got down, or I'd have been
here before!" she gasped, kissing Marjorie hard three times. Then she
stood back and surveyed Marjorie tenderly until she wanted to pick the
wad of paper out of the basket and throw it at her. "Coming back to
you!" she said softly. "Oh, you must be thrilled!" She put her head
on one side--she wore her hair in a shock of bobbed curls which
Marjorie loathed anyway, and they flopped when she wished to be
emphatic--and survey