ook in your calendar and see if this is leap
year. But even we working women sometimes," she went on, smiling
bravely up at him, "have whims. I had a whim, Stephen, to let you know
that I am very stupidly fond of you, and although it isn't your fault
and I expect nothing from you except that you do not alter our
friendship, you just stand in the way whenever I think of marrying any
one."

Perhaps because speech seemed so inadequate, Dartrey said nothing. He
sat looking at her with a queer emotion in his soft, studious eyes,
drumming a little on the table with his finger tips, not quite sure what
it meant that his heart was beating like a young man's and a queer
sensation of happiness was stealing through his whole being.

"Nothing in the world," he murmured, "could alter our friendship."

"What you see before you," she went on, "is an oyster stew. The true
hostess, you see, studying her guest's special tastes. It is very
nearly cooked and if you do not pronounce it the most delicious thing
you ever ate in your life, I shall be terribly disappointed."

Dartrey sat as still as a man upon whom some narcotic influence rested,
and his words sounded almost unnatural.

"I am convinced," he assured her, "that I shall be able to gratify you."

"What you get afterwards you see upon the sideboard: cold
partridges--both young birds though--ham, salad of my own mixing, and,
behold! my one outburst of extravagance--strawberries. There is also a
camembert cheese lying in ambush outside because of its strength. I
would suggest that during the three minutes which will ensue before I
serve you with the stew, you open the champagne. You are so dumbfounded
at my audacity that perhaps a little exercise will be good for you."

Dartrey rose to his feet, produced the corkscrew and found the cork
amenable. He filled Nora's glass and his own. Then he leaned over her
and took her hand for a moment. His face was full of kindness and he
was curiously disturbed.

"You are the dearest child on earth, Nora," he said. "I find myself
wishing from the bottom of my heart that it were possible that you could
be--something nearer and dearer to me."

She looked feverishly into his face and pushed him away.

"Go and sit down and don't be absurd," she enjoined. "Try and forget
everything else except that you are going to eat an oyster stew. That
is really the way to take life, isn't it--in cycles--and it doesn't
matter then whether one's happy times