of it. I am behind with my work already. I only came round for a few
minutes' talk with you."

She looked at him curiously. She was not used to be denied.

"Surely," she said, "your work is not so important as all that?"

"I am afraid," he said, "that lately I have been forgetting how
important my work really is. That is precisely what I came to talk to
you about."

She sat down composedly, but he fancied that her long, dark eyes had
narrowed a little, and the smile had gone from her face.

"You will think I am ungrateful, I am afraid," he began, "but, do you
know, I am losing hold upon my work, and I have come to the conclusion
that I am giving a good deal too much of my time to going out. Thanks
to you, I seem to have invitations for almost every day--I go to polo
matches, to river parties, to dinners and dances, I do everything except
work. You know that I have made a fair start, and I feel that I ought
to be making some uses of my opportunities. Besides--I may be quite
frank with you, I know--I am spending a great deal more than I am
earning, and that won't do, will it?"

She came over and sat by his side on the couch. There was not the
slightest sign of disapproval in her manner.

"Do you know, that sounds very sensible, Douglas my friend," she said,
quietly. "I should hate to think that I was selfish in liking to have
you with me so much, and your work is the first thing, of course. Only