from sleeping."

"Oho!" cried Emmy. "So you know all about it. You _are_ in love. Now, tell
me, who is she?"

"It was many years ago," said Septimus. "She wore pigtails and I burned a
hole in her pinafore with a toy cannon and she slapped my face. Afterwards
she married a butcher."

He looked at her with his wan smile, and again raised his hat and ran his
hand through his hair. Emmy was not convinced.

"I believe," she said, "you have fallen in love with Zora."

He did not reply for a moment or two; then he touched her arm.

"Please don't say that," he said, in an altered tone.

Emmy edged up close to him, as they walked. It was her nature, even while
she teased, to be kind and caressing.

"Not even if it's true? Why not?"

"Things like that are not spoken of," he said soberly. "They're only felt."

This time it was she who put a hand on his arm, with a charming, sisterly
air.

"I hope you won't make yourself miserable over it. You see, Zora is
impossible. She'll never marry again. I do hope it's not serious. Is it?"