ood the ravages
of Chronos for a matter of three centuries. But I doubt if even the
insolent sweet wit of Rosalind could have devised a fitting simile for
Time's gait at Selwoode those five days that Billy lay abed. Margaret
could not but marvel at the flourishing proportion attained by the
hours in those sunlit spring days; and at dinner, say, her thoughts
harking back to luncheon, recalled it by a vigorous effort as an
affair of the dim yester-years--a mere blurred memory, faint and vague
as a Druidical tenet or a Merovingian squabble.

But the time passed for all that; and eventually--it was just before
dusk--she came, with Martin Jeal's permission, into the room where
Billy was. And beside the big open fireplace, where a wood fire
chattered companionably, sat a very pallid Billy, a rather thin Billy,
with a great many bandages about his head.

You may depend upon it, Margaret was not looking her worst that
afternoon. By actual count, Celestine had done her hair six times
before reaching an acceptable result.

And, "Yes, Celestine, you may get out that pale yellow dress. No,
beautiful, the one with the black satin stripes on the bodice--because
I don't want my hair cast completely in the shade, do I? Now, let me
see--black feather, gloves, large pompadour, _and_ a sweet smile. No,
I don't want a fan--that's a Lydia Languish trade-mark. And _two_ silk
skirts rustling like the deadest leaves imaginable. Yes, I think that
will do. And if you can't hook up my dress without pecking and pecking
at me like that, I'll probably go stark, _staring_ crazy, Celestine,
and then you'll be sorry. No, it isn't a bit tight--are you perfectly
certain there's no powder behind my ears, Celestine? Now, _please_ try
to fasten the collar without pulling all my hair down. Ye-es, I think
that will do, Celestine. Well, it's very nice of you to say so, but I
don't believe I much fancy myself in yellow, after all."

Equipped and armed for conquest, then, she came into the room with a
very tolerable affectation of unconcern. Altogether, it was a quite
effective entrance.

"I've been for a little drive, Billy," she mendaciously informed him.
"That's how you happen to have the opportunity of seeing me in all my
nice new store-clothes. Aren't you pleased, Billy? No, don't you dare
get up!" Margaret stood across the room, peeling off her gloves and
regarding him on the whole with disapproval. "They've been starving
you," she pensively reflecte