want to be different. I'm as greedy as
you are and more so, only differently. As it is, the word isn't real.
We're both giving and both taking and there's an end of it."

He was silent for a moment. "It's no use my trying to say how perfect
you are," he said at last.

"Dear, delightful, serious, conscience-stricken gloomkins," she laughed
at him. "What does all this matter ... how we share things, I mean?
The only real thing is enthusiasm, wanting and feeling and loving. You
were at a loose end until you began to feel; you couldn't work, you
couldn't do anything. Nor could I. And now work is all changed and
seems better and easier. The office is a palace for me, India a
pleasure garden for you. Do stop worrying and be sensible."

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'll try and be good. You're always right.
This taxi goes far too fast. We're in your street."

"Bother," she said.

"Let's tell him to drive on somewhere else and come back in another
one."

"No. You've spent far too much and we've done that often enough. I'm
going to be a good girl to-night."

"Tyrant."

"Wastrel."

"He's stopping. One more kiss."

Through streets that more than ever resembled enchanted pathways in a
forest of shadow and silver, Martin went back exulting to his hotel.

IX

It was the second week in January when Martin went down to The
Steading: he merely stayed to collect books and clothes and returned at
once to London. While he was there he told his uncle and aunt that he
was engaged to be married.

That night John Berrisford discussed the matter with his wife. "Well,"
he began, "what about our young Martin?"

"I suppose it's all right," said Mrs Berrisford quietly. "He's very
young, but that seems to be the fashion nowadays."

"Yes, that doesn't matter. Long engagements are tragic, unhealthy
things, but they'll be apart and he ought to be able to marry almost at
once. Quite a lot of civilians do."

"And she's quite a nice girl."

John Berrisford gave the slight wriggle of the shoulders for which we
have only the excessive word "shrug."

"Don't you approve?" added his wife.

"Yes and no. On the whole, no." He kicked at the fire testily.
"She's quite a nice girl and clever and reasonable beyond the average.
If Martin were going to hang about in town, well and good. But really
is she the wife of an Indian Civilian?"

"But, John, surely! You with your ideas about freedom! You don't
believe in th