men ever
since. Her life was now full of quite other interests--incoherent and
changeable, but strong while they lasted. Nelly's state of bliss awoke
no answering sympathy in her.

'Well, good-bye, Nelly,' she said, when she had put on her
things--advancing towards them, while the lieutenant rose to his feet.
'I expect Mrs. Weston will make you comfortable. I ordered in all the
things for to-morrow.'

'Everything's _charming_!' said Nelly, as she put her arms round her
sister. 'It was awfully good of you to see to it all. Will you come over
to lunch to-morrow? We might take you somewhere.'

'Oh, don't bother about me! You won't want me. I'll look in some time.
I've got a lot of work to do.'

Nelly withdrew her arms. George Sarratt surveyed his sister-in-law with
curiosity.

'Work?' he repeated, with his pleasant, rather puzzled smile.

'What are you doing now, Bridget?' said Nelly, softly, stroking the
sleeve of her sister's jacket, but really conscious only of the man
beside her.

'Reading some proof-sheets for a friend,' was the rather short reply, as
Bridget released herself.

'Something dreadfully difficult?' laughed Nelly.

'I don't know what you mean by difficult,' said Bridget ungraciously,
looking for her gloves. 'It's psychology--that's all. Lucy Fenn's
bringing out another volume of essays.'

'It sounds awful!' said George Sarratt, laughing. 'I wish I knew what
psychology was about. But can't you take a holiday?--just this week?'

He looked at her rather gravely. But Bridget shook her head, and again
said good-bye. George Sarratt took her downstairs, and saw her off on
her bicycle. Then he returned smiling, to his wife.

'I say, Bridget makes me feel a dunce! Is she really such a learned
party?'

Nelly's dark eyes danced a little. 'I suppose she is--but she doesn't
stick to anything. It's always something different. A few months ago, it
was geology; and we used to go out for walks with a hammer and a bag.
Last year it was _the_-ology! Our poor clergyman, Mr. Richardson, was no
match for Bridget at all. She could always bowl him over.'

'Somehow all the "ologies" seem very far away--don't they?' murmured
Sarratt, after they had laughed together. They were standing at the
window again, his arm close round her, her small dark head pressed
against him. There was ecstasy in their nearness to each other--in the
silver beauty of the lake--in the soft coming of the June evening; and
in that stern fa