which made his heart beat at double time. In the drawing room
beside his grandmother sat Erica, her little fur hat pushed back,
her gloves off, busily arranging Christmas roses and red camellias.
Her anger had died away, she was talking quite merrily. It seemed
to Brian more like a beautiful dream than a bit of every-day life,
to have her sitting there so naturally in his home; but the note of
pain was struck before long.

"I must go home," she said. "This is my last day, you know. I am
going to Paris tomorrow."

A sort of sadness seemed to fall on them at the words; only gentle
Mrs. Osmond said, cheerfully:

"You will come to see us again when you come back, will you not?"

And then, with the privilege of the aged, she drew down the young,
fresh face to hers and kissed it.

"You will let me see you home," said Brian. "It is getting dark."

Erica laughingly protested that she was well used to taking care of
herself, but it ended in Brian's triumphing. So together they
crossed the quiet square. Erica chattered away merrily enough, but
as they reached the narrow entrance to Guilford Terrace a shadow
stole over her face.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, "this is the last time I shall come home for
two whole years."