ived in
London and telephoned, asking him to dine with them at their hotel.

Trepidation hid become his normal mood, and Eric walked into the lounge
with his teeth set and the muscles of his cheeks hard. The burgeoning
happiness of Agnes was harder to bear than ever, but he achieved a
tolerable effect as the undemonstrative, phlegmatic Englishman and
mingled suitable congratulations with his many questions.

"I handed on the good news to every one you mentioned," he said at the
end of dinner. "And to one or two others who I thought would be
interested to hear it. Did he send me any jobs or messages?"

"He wants a pipe, but father can get that. I don't think he sent any
messages."

Eric looked at his watch and begged to be excused. It was half-past ten,
and he had telephoned to say that he would call for Barbara at eleven
and bring her home from a party in Portman Square.

When he reached the house, Eric was disconcerted to learn that Barbara
had already left. He was slightly less surprised, on reaching home, to
find the hall ablaze with light and Barbara lying at full length on a
sofa with her cloak trailing on the carpet and a bottle of
_eau-de-Cologne_ clutched in one hand.

She started and opened her eyes as he came into the room.

"Eric, did you go . . .? I'm sorry! I couldn't wait, I couldn't bear
being with people. I've been asleep. I've got such a racking headache,
darling."

Eric took a bottle of aspirin from the drawer of his writing-table.

"Have you had any of this to-day?" he asked. "Then I can give you
fifteen grains. Wait till I've got some water." He returned with a
tumbler and two cushions and seated himself at her feet. "Have you heard
anything fresh from Switzerland?" he asked. "Well, I'm afraid I haven't,
either. I dined with Colonel Waring and Agnes to-night, as you know."

Barbara had uncovered her eyes to hold the tumbler; but she set it on
the floor, as he began to speak, and shielded her face.

"H-how is he?" she asked.

"He gets tired rather quickly, but otherwise he's all right. Leading
quite a normal life, I mean."

His words were deliberately chosen to shew that Jack was in a state to
have written, had he wished. His choice was not wasted on her.

"And what now, Eric?" she asked.

"Isn't that for you to say?"

Barbara uncovered her eyes again and looked slowly round the room. It
had become so familiar that she no longer noticed its shape or
colouring. Instinctively she kne