old chap.'

'Never mind me,' said Cairns with a laugh. He paused and looked intently
at Victoria, then cautiously round him. They were almost in the middle
of the restaurant, but it was still only half full. Cairns had fixed
dinner for seven, though they were only due for a music hall; he hated
to hurry over his coffee. Thus they were in a little island of pink
light surrounded by penumbra. Softly attuned, Mimi's song before the
gates of Paris floated in from the balcony.

'Vic,' said Cairns gravely, 'you're lovely. I've never seen you like
this before.'

'Do you like my gown?' she asked coquettishly.

'Your gown!' Cairns said 'Your gown's like a stalk, Vic, and you're a
big white flower bursting from it . . . a big white flower, pink
flecked, scented. . . .'

'Sh . . . Tom, don't talk like that in here.' Victoria slid her foot
forward, slipped off her shoe and gently put her foot on the Major's
instep. His eyes blinked quickly twice. He reached out for his glass and
gulped down the champagne.

The waiter returned, velvet footed. Every one of his gestures
consecrated the quails resting on the flowered white plates, surrounded
by a succulent lake of aromatic sauce.

They ate silently. There was already between them the good understanding
which makes speech unnecessary. Victoria looked about her from time to
time. The couples interested her, for they were nearly all couples. Most
of them comprised a man between thirty and forty, and a woman some years
his junior. Their behaviour was severely decorous, in fact a little
languid. From a table near by a woman's voice floated lazily,

'I rather like this pub, Robbie.'

Indeed the acceptance of the pubbishness of the place was characteristic
of its frequenters. Most of the men looked vaguely weary; some keenly
interested bent over the silver laden tables, their eyes fixed on their
women's arms. Here and there a foreigner with coal black hair, a soft
shirt front and a fancy white waistcoat, spiced with originality the
sedateness of English gaiety. An American woman was giving herself away
by a semitone, but her gown was exquisite and its _decolletage_
challenged gravitation.

Cairns' attitude was exasperatingly that of Gallio, save as concerned
Victoria. His eyes did not leave her. She knew perfectly well that he
was inspecting her, watching the rise and fall on her white breast of
his Christmas gift, a diamond cross. They both refused the mousse and
Victoria misch