the worshipful young
man, whose fervour was unworn by toil or fret. Every woman who looked
at Marie and Osborn sitting side by side, with shoulders leaning
slightly, unconsciously, towards each other, found in her heart some
memory, or some empty ache for such fond glory.

The Kerrs alighted at Hampstead and walked briskly, Osborn's hand
tucked under Marie's arm, for it was dark, up the road to the flats.
On their way they passed rows and tiers of flats, all similar, save
that one represented more money, maybe, than another, all holding or
remembering sweet stories like theirs. But they did not think of that;
they were in haste to reach No. 30 Welham Mansions, the little heaven
behind the closed front door.

"We had a jolly old afternoon, hadn't we?" said Osborn after dinner.
"I'll take you there again."

"Can we afford it?" said Marie, with a droop to her mouth.

"We will afford it. I'll make lots of money for my Marie. We'll have a
dear old time!"

"I've been thinking, Osborn."

"A wretched exercise," he said gaily. "Don't you worry yourself,
chicken. Just be happy. That's all I ask." He grew the least degree
pathetic. "I can't be here all day to look after you, and see that
you're happy; you'll have to see to it yourself. Do that for me, will
you? Make my girl awf'ly happy."

"I am happy, Osborn."

"We do ourselves pretty well, don't we, dear?" he said appreciatively.
"This is jolly snug. Now I'll make the coffee. You sit still."

Marie watched Osborn. She took her cup from him, and stirred her
coffee into a whirlpool, and at last said:

"You see, Osborn, I want some money, please."

"All right, darling," he replied. "I'll give you a bit to go on with
any time."

His ready hand jingled in his trousers pocket.

"It's for the tradesmen," said Marie; "I thought we'd pay every week."

"That's it," he enjoined, "be methodical. That's splendid of you."

"And this week it comes to two pounds ten."

Osborn's hand ceased its jingling; he withdrew it and sat still.

"Oh!..." he said in an altered voice, "does it? Well, all right."

"That doesn't include the coal, or--or allow for gas," murmured Marie.
"I expect the meter is ready for another half-crown."

Osborn looked at the sitting-room fire.

"Marie love," he said, clearing his throat, "I'm sorry, but--but will
it always come to as much?"

"I hope not. No, I'll keep it down as much as I can, Osborn. But this
week--"

"Was just a trial trip," sai