of a most
unhumorous sentence, much to Miss Smithers' astonishment.

When he had finished his dictation he dismissed her and sat down to his
writing. After a while Miss Winwood came in. The five years had treated
her lightly. A whitening of the hair about her brows, which really
enhanced the comeliness of her florid complexion, a few more lines at
corners of eyes and lips, were the only evidences of the touch of
Time's fingers. As she entered Paul swung round from his writing chair
and started to his feet. I "Oh, Paul, I said the 20th for the Disabled
Soldiers and Sailors, didn't I? I made a mistake. I'm engaged that
afternoon."

"I don't think so, dearest lady," said Paul.

"I am."

"Then you've told me nothing about it," said Paul the infallible.

"I know," she said meekly. "It's all my fault. I never told you. I've
asked the Bishop of Frome to lunch, and I can't turn him out at a
quarter-past two, can I? What date is there free?"

Together they bent over the engagement book, and after a little
discussion the new date was fixed.

"I'm rather keen on dates to-day," said Paul, pointing to the brass
calendar.

"Why?"

"It's exactly five years since I entered your dear service," said Paul.

"We've worked you like a galley slave, and so I love your saying 'dear
service,'" she replied gently.

Paul, half sitting on the edge of the Cromwellian table in the bay of
the window, laughed. "I could say infinitely more, dearest lady, if I
were to let myself go."

She sat on the arm of a great leathern chair. Their respective
attitudes signified a happy intimacy. "So long as you're contented, my
dear boy---" she said.

"Contented? Good heavens!" He waved a protesting hand.

"You're ambitious."

"Of course," said he. "What Would be the good of me if I wasn't?"

"One of these days you'll be wanting to leave the nest and--what shall
we say?--soar upwards."

Paul, too acute to deny the truth of this prophecy said: "I probably
shall. But I'll be the rarissima avis, to whom the abandoned nest will
always be the prime object of his life's consideration."

"Pretty,"' said Miss Winwood.

"It's true."

"I'm sure of it," she said pleasantly. "Besides, if you didn't leave
the nest and make a name for yourself, you wouldn't be able to carry on
our work. My brother and I, you see, are of the older generation--you
of the younger."

"You're the youngest woman I know," Paul declared.

"I shan't be in a few years, and