his neck in his collar and
his tie around it, and rang the bell.

The second man, hastily buttoned into his coat and with a faint odor
of silver polish about him, opened the door. Pink gave him his hat, but
retained the box firmly.

"Mrs. Cardew and Miss Cardew at home?" he asked. "Yes? Then you might
tell Grayson I'm here to luncheon--unless the family is lunching out."

"Yes, sir," said the footman. "No, sir, they are lunching at home."

Pink sauntered into the library. He was not so easy as his manner
indicated. One never knew about Lily. Sometimes she was in a mood when
she seemed to think a man funny, and not to be taken seriously. And
when she was serious, which was the way he liked her--he rather lacked
humor--she was never serious about him or herself. It had been religion
once, he remembered. She had wanted to know if he believed in the
thirty-nine articles, and because he had seen them in the back of
the prayer-book, where they certainly would not be if there was not
authority for them, he had said he did.

"Well, I don't," said Lily. And there had been rather a bad half-hour,
because he had felt that he had to stick to his thirty-nine guns,
whatever they were. He had finished on a rather desperate note of
appeal.

"See here, Lily," he had said. "Why do you bother your head about such
things, anyhow?"

"Because I've got a head, and I want to use it."

"Life's too short."

"Eternity's pretty long. Do you believe in eternity?" And there they
were, off again, and of course old Anthony had come in after that, and
had wanted to know about his Aunt Marcia, and otherwise had shown every
indication of taking root on the hearth rug.

Pink was afraid of Anthony. He felt like a stammering fool when Anthony
was around. That was why he had invited himself to luncheon. Old Anthony
lunched at his club.

When he heard Lily coming down the stairs, Pink's honest heart beat
somewhat faster. A good many times in France, but particularly on the
ship coming back, he had thought about this meeting. In France a fellow
had a lot of distractions, and Lily had seemed as dear as ever, but
extremely remote. But once turned toward home, and she had filled
the entire western horizon. The other men had seen sunsets there, and
sometimes a ship, or a school of porpoises. But Pink had seen only Lily.

She came in. The dear old girl! The beautiful, wonderful, dear old girl!
The--

"Pink!"

"H--hello, Lily."

"Why, Pink--you'