And Dick Forrest forsook the statistical columns of Professor
Kenealy's inoculations, pressed his wife closer, kissed her, but with
insistent right fore-finger maintained his place in the pages of the
pamphlet.

Nevertheless, the very terms of her "reproof prevented him from asking
what he should have asked--the prosperity of her night since the
boudoir cap had been left upon his sleeping porch. He shut the
pamphlet on his right fore-finger, at the place he intended to resume,
and added his right arm to his left about her.

"Oh!" she cried. "Oh! Oh! Listen!"

From without came the flute-calls of quail. She quivered against him
with the joy she took in the mellow-sweet notes.

"The coveys are breaking up," he said.

"It means spring," Paula cried.

"And the sign that good weather has come."

"And love!"

"And nest-building and egg-laying," Dick laughed. "Never has the world
seemed more fecund than this morning. Lady Isleton is farrowed of
eleven. The angoras were brought down this morning for the kidding.
You should have seen them. And the wild canaries have been discussing
matrimony in the patio for hours. I think some free lover is trying to
break up their monogamic heaven with modern love-theories. It's a