conservatory, and then, 'Do you like poetry?' she asks.

'Pretty well, I don't read much of it.'

'I am so fond of it,' replies Philippa, settling herself comfortably on
a sofa surrounded by cushions, 'I could read it all day.'

'Ah, you see you have more time to do what you like, but when a fellow
has been at work all day, he doesn't feel inclined for poetry, you've
got nothing to do except to read and do fancy work, I suppose.'

'That's a mistake that all men make, they think that girls have nothing
to do all day, when they have quite as much as men if not more; you
don't know anything about them. And I think poetry is the _most_ restful
thing to read when one's tired, you see our minds soar to higher things
than yours, you study the _Racing Calendar_ and the newspapers, don't
you?'

'Generally, not always,' admits Jimmy.

'The _Racing Calendar_, _versus_ Tennyson, Longfellow, or Mrs Browning;
but I don't believe you're half listening to me,' says she, for he is
gazing straight in front of him.

'I assure you I was,' he protests, 'I am in a crowd now, may I not muse
on the "absent face that has fixed" me.'

'No, certainly not, you ought to be thinking of me,' this in a slightly
aggrieved tone.