in
his life. There were the occasional glimpses of the eyes (for Leonore,
in spite of her position, did manage to cover the larger part of them)
not one of which must be missed. Then there was her mouth. That would
have been very restful to the eye; if it hadn't been for the distracting
chin below it. Then there were the little feet, just sticking out from
underneath the tailor-made gown, making Peter think of Herrick's famous
lines. Finally there were those two hands! Leonore was very deliberately
taking off her gloves. Peter had not seen those hands ungloved yet, and
waited almost breathlessly for the unveiling. He decided that he must
watch and shake hands at parting before Leonore put those gloves on
again.

"I say," said Watts, "how did you ever manage to get such a place here?"

"I was a tenant for a good many years of the insurance company that owns
the building, and when it came to rebuild, it had the architect fit this
floor for me just as I wished it. So I put our law-offices in front and
arranged my other rooms along the side street. Would you like to see
them?" Peter asked this last question very obviously of Leonore.

"Very much."

So they passed through the other door, to a little square hall, lighted
by a skylight, with a stairway going up to the roof.

"I took the upper floor, so as to get good air and the view of the city
and the bay, which is very fine," Peter said. "And I have a staircase to
the roof, so that in good weather I can go up there."

"I wondered what the great firm was doing up ten stories," said Watts.

"Ogden and Rivington have been very good in yielding to my
idiosyncracies. This is my mealing closet."

It was a room nine feet square, panelled, ceiled and floored in
mahogany, and the table and six chairs were made of the same material.

"So this is what the papers call the 'Stirling political incubator?' It
doesn't look like a place for hatching dark plots," said Watts.

"Sometimes I have a little dinner here. Never more than six, however,
for it's too small."

"I say, Dot, doesn't this have a jolly cosy feeling? Couldn't one sit
here blowy nights, with the candles lit, eating nuts and telling
stories? It makes me think of the expression, 'snug as a bug.'"

"Miss Leroy told me, Peter, what a reputation your dinners had, and how
every one was anxious to be invited just once," said Leonore.

"But not a second time, old man. You caught Dot's inference, I hope?
Once is quite