this house, which now was destined to
figure again in history as the home of the greater Paul Mario. He
glanced around the cosy room, in which there were many bowls and vases
holding tulips, those chalices of tears beloved of Hafiz, and he
suppressed a little sigh.

"May I light a pipe before I go, Yvonne?" he asked. "I am one of those
depraved beings who promenade the streets smoking huge briars, to the
delight of Continental comic artists."

"I know you are. But you are not going to promenade the streets until
you have had lunch."

"Really, Yvonne, thanks all the same, but I must go. Honestly, I have an
appointment."

Yvonne smiled in his face and her violet eyes held a query.

"No," replied Don--"no such luck. The Pauls are the lucky dogs. All the
nice girls are married. I am going to lunch with a solicitor!"

"Oh, how unromantic! And you are on leave!"

"Painful, I admit, but I am a stodgy old fogey. When the war is over I
am going to buy a velvet coat and a little red pork-pie cap, with a
green tassel. Is that old Odin I can hear barking?"

"Yes. He has heard your voice."

"I must really say 'How d'you do' to Odin. When I have lighted my pipe
may I go out?"

"Of course. Odin would never forgive you if you didn't. Let me strike a
match for you."

"You are spoiling me, Yvonne."

Don, his pipe well alight, stood up and went out into the garden where a
wolf-hound was making an excited demonstration in the little yard before
the door of his kennel.

"Hullo, Odin!" cried Don, as the great hound leapt at him joyfully,
resting both paws upon his shoulders. "How is old Odin? Not looking
forward to compulsory rationing, I dare swear."

He pulled the dog's ears affectionately and scratched his shapely head
in that manner which is so gratifying to the canine species. Then from
the pocket of his "British-warm" he produced a large sweet biscuit,
whereupon Odin immediately assumed a correct mendicant posture and sat
with drooping forepaws and upraised eyes. Don balanced the big biscuit
upon the dog's nose. "When I say 'Three,' Odin. One!" Odin did not stir.
"Two!" Odin remained still as a dog of stone. "_Three!_" The biscuit
disappeared, and Don laughed as loudly as though the familiar
performance had been an entire novelty. "Good morning, old fellow," he
said, and returned to the house.

Yvonne was awaiting him in the hall. "What time shall you come on
Tuesday?" she asked. "Paul should be home to lunch."

"