better than being regarded as an interesting case by the house-surgeon
of a hospital. He belonged to the school of thought which holds that it
is better that people should say of you, "There he goes!" than that
they should say, "How peaceful he looks".

Stress of work prevented further conversation. It was a revelation to
Roland, the vigor and energy with which Miss March threw herself into
the breach. As a matter of fact, so tremendous had been the labors of
the departed Mr. Petheram, that her work was more apparent than real.
Thanks to Mr. Petheram, there was a sufficient supply of material in
hand to enable 'Squibs' to run a fortnight on its own momentum. Roland,
however, did not know this, and with a view to doing what little he
could to help, he informed Miss March that he would write the Scandal
Page. It must be added that the offer was due quite as much to prudence
as to chivalry. Roland simply did not dare to trust her with the
Scandal Page. In her present mood it was not safe. To slip it into
Percy would, he felt, be with her the work of a moment.

* * * * *

Literary composition had never been Roland's forte. He sat and stared
at the white paper and chewed the pencil which should have been marring
its whiteness with stinging paragraphs. No sort of idea came to him.

His brow grew damp. What sort of people--except book-makers--did things
you could write scandal about? As far as he could ascertain, nobody.

He picked up the morning paper. The name Windlebird [*] caught his eye. A
kind of pleasant melancholy came over him as he read the paragraph. How
long ago it seemed since he had met that genial financier. The