med
to drop over her vivid, strong face when she saw who escorted her.

Rokeby would not take leave of Marie on the threshold, though; he
followed her in and sat down, asking if he might stay. There was about
him an air of smiling determination, and his eyes obstinately sought
Julia's, which as obstinately avoided his. She began to chatter, as if
to slur over a momentary confusion.

"I've only been in ten minutes, and I was going to settle down to a
lonely evening. I'm awf'ly glad to have you, Marie darling. If Mr.
Rokeby's going to stay he'll have to be useful. I'm afraid you find me
almost deshabillee, but I'm one of these sloppy bachelors, as you
know."

But Julia had a taut way of putting on even a silk kimono, and she
could not have been sloppy had she tried; her lines were too fine and
clean.

The two women went away to Julia's bedroom, a little box like a
furnisher's model, and there Julia gleaned Marie's news. But far from
giving unmitigated sympathy, she was almost crudely congratulatory.

"It's what most wives of your standing want badly. A year off. A year
to go to some theatres, to find their own minds again; to look after
their wardrobes, and thread all the ribbons in their cammies that
they've been too busy to thread for ages. It's no good coming to me
for pity. I'm not sorry for you."

"I--I'm not sure that I want you to be. I see what you mean. But--"

"But?"

"Last night, when I knew, I was just heartbroken. I don't know when
I've cried as I did. For a while I thought I'd just have to die."

"You won't die. You'll renovate yourself; you'll get new feathers,
like a bird in spring."

Marie looked slowly at Julia.

"I know."

Julia began to smile, first a smile of inquiry, then of delight.
"'Rah! 'rah!" she screamed softly; "we'll have Marie pretty again."

Marie took off her hat and coat and began to fluff her crushed hair.

"See my grey hairs, though, Julia?"

"They're nothing."

"My teeth, of course, haven't been touched since I was married. I
don't know if I'll be able to afford that, but I'll try."

"Marie," said Julia, at an inexplicable tangent, "for heaven's sake
why bring Desmond Rokeby here?"

"Oh, do you mind, dear? He brought me."

"Mind!" said Julia, now inexplicably tart, "I don't mind! Why should I
mind anything about him? Only--"

"Only?"

"Oh, well, it doesn't matter! Let's all be jolly, if he's got to
stay."

It was one of those gay, rowdy, delightful, laugh