denial."

"As a matter of fact," she said, "I'm getting to detest almonds."

"And I simply loathe--I mean, I'm sure pipes are ever so much better for
one than cigars."

"Good!" observed Ursula. "Cigars and almonds go out. Only if you have
your pipe there ought to be some cheap and filling substitute for my
almonds."

"Turkish delight," I suggested, "supposing it turns out all right about
the _Goeben_."

"And, if not, I could get along with Russian toffee. That settles tea.
How about other meals?"

"We're at the end of that Hock."

"I'm glad of it," said Ursula. "Nasty German rubbish. I wonder it didn't
contaminate the cellar. Now we must drink something patriotic instead."

"What about good old English water?"

"My dear! With all those spies simply picnicing round the reservoirs!
Goodness knows what they've put in. My idea was a nice, not
too-expensive, champagne, like what they get for the subscription
dances."

"Dearest! Ask me to go out into the road and sing the _Marseillaise_.
Ask almost anything of me to display my pride and affection for our
brave allies, but do not, do not ask me to drink sweet champagne at
lunch!"

"You shall choose it yourself," said Ursula, "and it isn't for lunch,
but dinner. At lunch you will continue to drink beer. Only it will be
English, not German."

"Glorious beer! _C'est magnifique!_"

"_Mais ce n'est pas lager!_" said Ursula quickly.

This was rightly held to constitute one trick to her, and we resumed.

"About clothes," I said.

"There was an article I read in some paper," observed Ursula, "pointing
out that if everybody did without them no one would mind."

"Still, even in war time----"

"Of course I meant new clothes and fashionable things."

"An alluring prospect!" I agreed wistfully. "Fancy reading in the
frock-papers that 'Ursula, Mrs. Brown, looked charming in a creation of
sacking made Princess fashion, the _chic_ effect being heightened by a
bold use of the original trade-mark, which now formed a striking _decor_
for the corsage.'"

Ursula did not smile. "No man can be amusing about clothes except by
accident," she said coldly. "The article went on to advise that if new
things were bought they should be specially good. It called this the
truest economy in the long run."

When Ursula had sketched out a comprehensive wardrobe on truest economy
lines, and I had mentally reviewed my pet shades in autumn suitings,
there was a pause.

"What about th