It was one of those painful hours that crop up from time to time in
life and seem to leave a little scratch upon the soul.

But when quarter past three came Mrs. Harley pulled herself
together. She had already dropped hints of every known and well-
recognized kind to George, without success. She had even invented
appointments for him at the dentist's and the tailor's. But George
was basking in Joan's favor and was too dazzled to be able to catch
and concentrate upon his wife's insinuations as to things and people
that didn't exist. And Joan held him with her smile and led him from
one anecdote to another. Finally, with no one realized how supreme
an effort, Mrs. Harley came to the point. As a rule she never came
to points.

"Geordie," she said, seizing a pause, "you may run along now, dear,
and take a walk. It will do you good to get a little exercise before
dinner. I want to be alone with Joan for a while."

And before Joan could swing the conversation off at a tangent the
faithful and obedient St. Bernard was on his feet, ready and willing
to ramble whichever way he was told to go. With unconscious dignity
and a guilelessness utteriy unknown to drawing-rooms he bent over
Joan's reluctant hand and said, "Thank you for being so kind to me,"
laid a hearty kiss on his wife's cheek and went.

"And now, darling," said Mrs. Harley, settling into her chair with
an air of natural triumph, "tell me where Martin is and how long
he's going to be away and all about everything."