"What d'yer mean, boy?"

"What I say. At eleven o'clock to-morrow--to-day, I'll have a car
here and drive you away to woods and birds and all clean things.
I'll give you a holiday in a big cathedral, and you shall lie and
listen to God's own choir."

"Go on--ye're pullin' me leg!"

She waved her hand to stop him. It was all too good to joke about.

"No, I'm not. I've got a house away in the country. It was my
father's. We shall both be proud to welcome you there, Tootles."

She sprang up, put her hands on his face and tilted it back and
looked into his eyes. It was true! It was true! She saw it there.
And she kissed him and gave a great sobbing sigh and went into her
bedroom and began to undress. Was there anything like life, after
all?

Martin cleared the table and drew the curtains over the domestic
arrangements. He didn't like domestic arrangements. Then he sat down
and lighted a cigarette. His head was all blurred with sleep.

And presently a tired voice, called "Boy!" and he went in. The all-
too-golden head was deep into the pillow and long lashes made fans
on that powdered face.

"Where did you pinch the magic carpet?" she asked, and smiled, and
fell into sleep as a stone disappears into water.