in the world, only
that, once off, Osborn plunged on as if he would have her know all as
soon as might be.

He started again, with scarcely a pause, after just a nod to confirm
her exclamation.

"I'll begin at the beginning. That's the best way, eh, old girl? I see
it's staggered you as it staggered me. Woodall--you've heard me speak
of Woodall, one of our travellers?--was just about to start for a long
trip--New York, Chicago, then Montreal and all over Canada,
California, then New Zealand; it was a fine trip, selling our Runaway
two-seater. Well, when I got to our place this morning the boss sent
for me at once, and told me the news about poor old Woodall--knocked
down by a taxi in the street last night, and now in hospital for they
don't know how long. The tickets were bought and the tour arranged,
and--and--in short, you see, they'd got to pick another man at a
moment's notice, to go instead. And so--"

The wife leaned forward, her eyes opened wide and warily on her
husband's face. Not looking at her, he rattled on:

"So the boss offered it to me. You don't need telling that I accepted,
do you?"

She replied, "No," in a quiet voice.

"I knew you'd think I ought to take it," he said, with a swift glance
at her. "Of course, it mayn't be permanent, but I think it's up to me
to make it so. I guess I can hold down a job of that kind as well as
anyone else, if I've the chance. It's a fine chance! Do you know what
it means?"

She uttered a questioning sound.

"Five hundred a year," he said huskily, "with a good commission and
all expenses paid. The expenses are--are princely. You see, a fellow
selling motors isn't like a fellow selling tea. He's got to do the
splendid--get among the right people; among all sorts of people. Oh,
it'll be life!"

Passion was subdued again in her; it was old and drowsy and quiet.
Knitting her fingers tightly round her knee, she rocked a little, and
asked:

"When do you start?"

"Of course it's rather sudden--"

"So I understood from what you said. When will it be, Osborn?"

"To-morrow."

She stared into his face, unbelieving.

"To-morrow?" she whispered.

He got up hurriedly and fumbled about the mantel-piece in a fake
search for cigarettes.

"You see, I've got to follow out Woodall's programme exactly; he would
have started to-morrow."

"How--how long will you be away?"

"A year."

"A year!" she half screamed. "Oh, no! no! no!"

He looked at her with something