to tell me I must never dance again.'

'You--you--' he gulped. 'Do you really mean that you can--can stand the
sort of life we're living here? You really don't find it dull?'

'Dull!'

She ran to the bookshelf, and came back with a large volume.

'Read to me, Henry, dear. Read me something now. It seems ages and ages
since you used to. Read me something out of the _Encyclopaedia_!'

Henry was looking at the book in his hand. In the midst of a joy that
almost overwhelmed him, his orderly mind was conscious of something
wrong.

'But this is the MED-MUM volume, darling.'

'Is it? Well, that'll be all right. Read me all about "Mum".'

'But we're only in the CAL-CHA--' He wavered. 'Oh, well--I' he went on,
recklessly. 'I don't care. Do you?'

'No. Sit down here, dear, and I'll sit on the floor.'

Henry cleared his throat.

'"Milicz, or Militsch (d. 1374), Bohemian divine, was the most
influential among those preachers and writers in Moravia and Bohemia
who, during the fourteenth century, in a certain sense paved the way