in silence and in at their door. Peter opened the door on the
left and stood back. Julie went in. He followed and shut the door behind
them.

The maid had lit a fire, which blazed merrily. Julie took it all in--the
flowers, the pile of magazines, even the open box of cigarettes, and she
turned enthusiastically to him and flung her arms round his neck, kissing
him again and again. "Oh, Peter darling," she cried, "I can't tell you
how I love you! I could hardly sit still in the railway carriage, and the
train seemed worse than a French one. But now I have you at last, and all
to myself. Oh, Peter, my darling Peter!"

There came a knock at the door. Julie disengaged her arms from his neck,
but slipped her hand in his, and he said, "Come in."

The maid entered, carrying tea. She smiled at them. "I thought madame
might like tea at once, sir," she said, and placed the tray on the little
table.

"Thank you ever so much," said Julie impulsively; "that is good of you.
I'm longing for it. One gets so tired in the train." Then she walked to
the glass. "I'll take off my hat, Peter," she said, "and my coat, and
then well have tea comfortably. I do want it, and a cigarette. You're an
angel to have thought of my own De Reszke."

She threw herself into a big basket chair, and leaned over to the table.
"Milk and sugar for you, Peter? By the way, I ought to know these things;
not that it much matters; ours was a war marriage, and I've hardly seen
you at all!"

Peter sat opposite, and watched her pour out. She leaned back with a
piece of toast in her hands, her eyes on him, and they smiled across at
each other. Suddenly he could bear it no longer. He put his cup down and
knelt forward at her feet, his arms on her knees, devouring her. "Oh,
Julie," he said, "I want to worship you--I do indeed. I can't believe
my luck. I can't think that _you_ love _me_."

Her white teeth bit into the toast. "You old silly," she said. "But I
don't want to be worshipped; I _won't_ be worshipped; I want to be loved,
Peter."

He put his arms up, and pulled her head down to his, kissing her again
and again, stroking her arm, murmuring foolish words that meant nothing
and meant everything. It was she who stopped him. "Go and sit down," she
said, "and tell me all the plans."

"Well," he said, "I do hope you'll like them. First, I've not booked up
anything for to-night. I thought we'd go out to dinner to a place I know
and sit over it, and enjoy ourselv