hunger and cold and the real sting of poverty. Miss Winwood herself
knew more of drunken squalor. He saw himself a ragged and unwashed
urchin, his appalling breeches supported by one brace, addressing
her in familiar terms; and he saw her transfigured air of lofty
disgust; whereupon he laughed aloud in the middle of a most
unhumorous sentence, much to Miss Smithers' astonishment.

When he had finished his dictation he dismissed her and sat down to
his writing. After a while Miss Winwood came in. The five years had
treated her lightly. A whitening of the hair about her brows, which
really enhanced the comeliness of her florid complexion, a few more
lines at corners of eyes and lips, were the only evidences of the
touch of Time's fingers. As she entered Paul swung round from his
writing chair and started to his feet. I "Oh, Paul, I said the 20th
for the Disabled Soldiers and Sailors, didn't I? I made a mistake.
I'm engaged that afternoon."

"I don't think so, dearest lady," said Paul.

"I am."

"Then you've told me nothing about it," said Paul the infallible.

"I know," she said meekly. "It's all my fault. I never told you.
I've asked the Bishop of Frome to lunch, and I can't turn him out at
a quarter-past two, can I? What date is there free?"

Together they bent over the engagement book, and after a little
discussion the new date was fixed.