of his overcoat, drew out a book. "That's the one you wanted, isn't it?"

"Yes, thank you."

"I didn't give it to you before because I wanted to talk, but we'll
read, sometimes, when we can. Don't forget to put the light in the
window when it's all right for me to come. If I don't, you'll
understand. And please don't work so hard."

Barbara smiled. "I have to earn a living for three healthy people," she
said, "and everybody is trying, by moral suasion, to prevent me from
doing it. Do you want us all piled up in the front yard in a nice little
heap of bones before the Tower of Cologne is rebuilt?"

Roger took both her hands and attempted to speak, but his face suddenly
crimsoned, and he floundered out into the darkness like an awkward
school-boy instead of a self-possessed young man of almost twenty-four.
It had occurred to him that it might be very nice to kiss Barbara.

[Sidenote: Back to Childhood]

But Barbara, magically taken back to childhood, did not notice his
confusion. The Tower of Cologne had been a fancy of hers ever since she
could remember, though it had been temporarily eclipsed by the hard work
which circumstances had thrust upon her. As she grew from childhood to
womanhood, it had changed very little--the dream, always, was
practically the same.

[Sidenote: A Day Dream]