er face, seen close, was
incredibly soft and touching. Her nose was the most wonderful nose ever
witnessed. He gloated upon her perfection. For, literally, to him she
was perfect. With what dignity and with what a sense of justice she had
behaved, in the studio, in the parlour, and here. He was gloriously
reassured as he realized how in their joint future he would be able to
rely upon her fairness, her conscientiousness, her mere pleasantness
which nothing could disturb. Throughout the ordeal of the evening she
had not once been ruffled. She had not said an unkind word, nor given an
unkind gesture, nor exhibited the least trace of resentment. Then, she
had taste, and she was talented. But perhaps the greatest quality of all
was her adorable beauty and charm. And yet no! The final attraction was
that she trusted him, depended on him, cried in his embrace.... He
loosed her with reluctance, and she deliciously wiped her eyes on his
handkerchief, and he took her again.

"I suppose I must leave here too, now," he said.

"Oh, George!" she exclaimed. "You mustn't! Why should you? I don't want
you to."

"Don't you? Why?"

"Oh! I don't! Truly. You'll be just as well looked after as if I was
here. I do hope you'll stay."

That settled it. And Manresa Road was not far off.

She sat on the table and leaned against him a long time. Then she said
she must go upstairs to her room--she had so much to do. He could not
forbid, because she was irresistible. She extinguished the kitchen-lamp,
and, side by side, they groped up the stairs to the first floor. The cat
nonchalantly passed them in the hall.

"Put the lights out here, will you, when you go to bed?" she whispered.
He felt flattered.

She offered her face.... The lovely thing slipped away upstairs with
unimaginable, ravishing grace. She vanished. There was silence. After a
moment George could hear the clock ticking in the kitchen below. He
stood motionless, amid the dizzying memories of her glance, her
gestures, the softness of her body. What had happened to him was past
belief. He completely forgot the existence of the old man in love.

CHAPTER IV

THE LUNCHEON

I

George, having had breakfast in bed, opened his door for the second time
that morning, and duly found on the mat the can of hot water (covered
with a bit of old blanket) and the can of cold water which comprised the
material for his bath. There was no sound in the house. The new spouse
might be