ut and announce a man's fiat. There they were, Lydia still in her
patient attitude, and Anne on the landing, her head thrown back and the
pure outline of her chin and throat like beauty carved in the air. At
the opening of the door they were awake with an instant alertness.
Lydia's feet came noiselessly to the floor, and Jeff understood, with a
pang of pity for her, that she had perched uncomfortably to keep herself
awake. This soft creature would never understand. He addressed himself
to Anne, who believed in the impeccable rights of man and could take
uncomprehended ways for granted.

"He's going to get up."

Anne made a movement toward the door.

"No," said Jeffrey. He was there before her, and, though he smiled at
her, she knew she was not to pass. "I'll see to him. You two run off to
bed."

They were both regarding him with a pale, anxious questioning. But
Anne's look cleared.

"Come, Lydia," said she, and as Lydia, cramped with sleep, trudged after
her, she added wisely, "It'll be better for them both."

When they were gone, Jeffrey did go down to the kitchen, rigid in the
order Mary Nellen always left. He entered boldly on a campaign of
ruthless ravaging, found bread and cheese and set them out, and a roast
most attractive to the eye. He lighted candles, and then a lamp with a
gay piece of red flannel in its glass body, put there by Mary Nellen,
who, though on Homeric knowledge bent, kept religiously all the ritual
of home. The colonel's slippered step was coming down the stairs.
Jeffrey went out into the hall and beckoned. He looked stealth and
mischief, and the colonel grimaced wisely at him. They went into the
kitchen and sat down to their meal like criminals. The colonel had to
eat, in vying admiration of Jeff, ravenous from his day's walk. When
they drew back, Jeff pulled out his pipe. He was not an incessant
smoker, but in this first interval of his homecoming all small
indulgences were sweet. He paused in filling, finger on the weed.

"Where's yours?" he asked.

The colonel shook his head.

"Don't smoke?" Jeff inquired.

"I haven't for a year or so." He was shamefaced over it. "The fact
is--Jeff, I'm nothing but a malingerer. I thought--my heart--"

"Very wise," said Jeffrey, his eyes half-closed in a luxurious lighting
up. "Very wise indeed. But just to-night--don't you think you'd
better have a whiff to-night?" The colonel shook his head, but Jeff sent
out an advance signal of blue smoke. "