health and beauty; untouched by time or trouble; the worshipful young
man, whose fervour was unworn by toil or fret. Every woman who looked
at Marie and Osborn sitting side by side, with shoulders leaning
slightly, unconsciously, towards each other, found in her heart some
memory, or some empty ache for such fond glory.

The Kerrs alighted at Hampstead and walked briskly, Osborn's hand
tucked under Marie's arm, for it was dark, up the road to the flats.
On their way they passed rows and tiers of flats, all similar, save
that one represented more money, maybe, than another, all holding or
remembering sweet stories like theirs. But they did not think of that;
they were in haste to reach No. 30 Welham Mansions, the little heaven
behind the closed front door.

"We had a jolly old afternoon, hadn't we?" said Osborn after dinner.
"I'll take you there again."

"Can we afford it?" said Marie, with a droop to her mouth.

"We will afford it. I'll make lots of money for my Marie. We'll have a
dear old time!"

"I've been thinking, Osborn."

"A wretched exercise," he said gaily. "Don't you worry yourself,
chicken. Just be happy. That's all I ask." He grew the least degree
pathetic. "I can't be here all day to look after you, and see that
you're happy; you'll have to see to it yourself. Do that for me, will
you? Make my girl awf'ly happy."