"Yes, to-morrow as ever was," said Reggie, and he blew a little fan of
smoke. Why on earth was he so nervous? Nervous wasn't the word for it.

"It's--it's frightfully hard to believe," he added.

"Yes--isn't it?" said Anne softly, and she leaned forward and rolled the
point of her cigarette round the green ash-tray. How beautiful she looked
like that!--simply beautiful--and she was so small in that immense chair.
Reginald's heart swelled with tenderness, but it was her voice, her soft
voice, that made him tremble. "I feel you've been here for years," she
said.

Reginald took a deep breath of his cigarette. "It's ghastly, this idea of
going back," be said.

"Coo-roo-coo-coo-coo," sounded from the quiet.

"But you're fond of being out there, aren't you?" said Anne. She hooked
her finger through her pearl necklace. "Father was saying only the other
night how lucky he thought you were to have a life of your own." And she
looked up at him. Reginald's smile was rather wan. "I don't feel
fearfully lucky," he said lightly.

"Roo-coo-coo-coo," came again. And Anne murmured, "You mean it's lonely."

"Oh, it isn't the loneliness I care about," said Reginald, and he stumped
his cigarette savagely on the green ash-tray. "I could stand any amount of
it, used to like it even. It's the idea of--" Suddenly, to his horror, he
felt himself blushing.