is
ears, against the marvel and the glory of her as she stood beside him,
clothed in the purple of the night, Flight Commander Raffleton fought
the good fight for common sense.

Young persons who, scantily clad, go to sleep on the heather, five
miles from the nearest human habitation, are to be avoided by
well-brought-up young officers of His Majesty's Aerial Service. The
incidence of their being uncannily beautiful and alluring should serve
as an additional note of warning. The girl had had a row with her
mother and wanted to get away. It was this infernal moonlight that was
chiefly responsible. No wonder dogs bayed at it. He almost fancied he
could hear one now. Nice, respectable, wholesome-minded things, dogs.
No damned sentiment about them. What if he had kissed her! One is not
bound for life to every woman one kisses. Not the first time she had
been kissed, unless all the young men in Brittany were blind or white
blooded. All this pretended innocence and simplicity! It was just put
on. If not, she must be a lunatic. The proper thing to do was to say
good-bye with a laugh and a jest, start up his machine and be off to
England--dear old practical, merry England, where he could get
breakfast and a bath.

It wasn't a fair fight; one feels it. Poor little prim Common Sense,
with her defiant, turned-up nose and her shrill giggle and her innate
vulgarity. And against her the stillness of the night, and the music
of the ages, and the beating of his heart.

So it all fell down about his feet, a little crumbled dust that a
passing breath of wind seemed to scatter, leaving him helpless,
spellbound by the magic of her eyes.

"Who are you?" he asked her.

"Malvina," she answered him. "I am a fairy."

III. HOW COUSIN CHRISTOPHER BECAME MIXED UP WITH IT.

It did just occur to him that maybe he had not made that descent quite
as successfully as he had thought he had; that maybe he had come down
on his head; that in consequence he had done with the experiences of
Flight Commander Raffleton and was now about to enter on a new and less
circumscribed existence. If so, the beginning, to an adventuresome
young spirit, seemed promising. It was Malvina's voice that recalled
him from this train of musing.

"Shall we go?" she repeated, and this time the note in her voice
suggested command rather than question.

Why not? Whatever had happened to him, at whatever plane of existence
he was now arrived, the mac