," he answered.

"Do you want to get rid of me as much as all that?" she asked in gentle
reproach.

"Well, you'll automatically stop compromising yourself with me. But even
that doesn't matter so much as your health, which you're quite
deliberately ruining."

She stopped and put her hands on his shoulders, drawing his head to her
until she could kiss him. Still capable of being surprised, he thanked
Heaven--after a quick survey--that they had Eaton Square to themselves.

"Dear Eric, are you very delicate?" she asked. "It's only when health is
mentioned that you become human. Last night, at the very beginning of
dinner. . . . And again this evening. If--if I gave in and had a week in
bed, I could twist you round my finger. Now, don't pull yourself away
and look dignified! Don't you see that I'm paying you a wonderful
compliment? You're like a woman--not that that's a compliment. . . ."

She slipped her arm through his again, and they walked on past St.
Peter's. Barbara was tired enough by now to be dragging on his arm, and
he felt a sudden responsibility for her--as he had felt the night before
when she had implicitly entrusted herself to him. He glanced down and
found her walking with eyes closed and a faint smile on a very white
face. The wind was blowing her hair into disorder, and he bent forward
to draw her cloak more warmly over her chest.

She looked up with her eyes dark and sleep-laden.

"Am I coming undressed? Eric, you're very good to me! I shall miss you.
Perhaps you'll write to me, perhaps I shall be coming up to London for
just one night in about a week's time; we might dine together. Are you
coming to lunch on Saturday?"

"I'll give the matter my best consideration. Go to sleep again, child."

"Dear Eric!"

She roused again as they crossed Piccadilly; and at the end of Berkeley
Street she again cautiously bade him good-night.

"And about Saturday?"

Until that moment he had decided to be immovable about the Saturday
invitation. He did not want to go, he wanted still less to make her
think that he was going to please her. But, when she stopped him before
walking on alone to her house, he felt that their position must be
regularized. He had a certain status of his own--and some little pride.

"Yes, I'll come. Delighted," he said with sudden determination.

"Good-night, dear."

"Good-night, Lady Barbara."

There was time for an unexpected hour's work; but his broken night and
jarring day h