perambulator."

"Oh, no offence, I hope. Don't get nasty. How's your wife, Victor?"

"She's not at all well. She hurt her head coming down the slide with Max
on Sunday. I told her to stay at home all day."

"I'm sorry. Are you other fellows going back to the town or stopping on
here?"

Fuchs and Victor said they were stopping--Max did not answer, but sat
motionless while the men paid for their coffee and moved away. Victor
came back a moment and put a hand on his shoulder.

"If you're going right back, my dear, I wish you'd look Elsa up and tell
her I won't be in till late. And feed with us to-night at Limpold, will
you? And take some hot grog when you get in."

"Thanks, old fellow, I'm all right. Going back now."

He rose, stretched himself, buttoned on his heavy coat and lighted
another cigarette.

From the door Victor watched him plunging through the heavy snow--head
bent--hands thrust in his pockets--he almost appeared to be running
through the heavy snow towards the town.

... Someone came stamping up the stairs--paused at the door of her
sitting-room, and knocked.

"Is that you, Victor?" she called.

"No, it is I... can I come in?"

"Of course. Why, what a Santa Claus! Hang your coat on the landing and
shake yourself over the banisters. Had a good time?"

The room was full of light and warmth. Elsa, in a white velvet tea-gown,
lay curled up on the sofa--a book of fashions on her lap, a box of
creams beside her.

The curtains were not yet drawn before the windows and a blue light
shone through, and the white boughs of the trees sprayed across.

A woman's room--full of flowers and photographs and silk pillows--the
floor smothered in rugs--an immense tiger-skin under the piano--just the
head protruding--sleepily savage.

"It was good enough," said Max. "Victor can't be in till late. He told
me to come up and tell you."

He started walking up and down--tore off his gloves and flung them on
the table.

"Don't do that, Max," said Elsa, "you get on my nerves. And I've got a
headache to-day; I'm feverish and quite flushed... Don't I look flushed?"

He paused by the window and glanced at her a moment over his shoulder.

"No," he said; "I didn't notice it."

"Oh, you haven't looked at me properly, and I've got a new tea-gown on,
too." She pulled her skirts together and patted a little place on the
couch.

"Come along and sit by me and tell me why you're being naughty."

But, standing by the win