o bring it back on Wednesday. I said they couldn't
have it more than a week."

I glanced at Jill, who was standing by the window. Her left eyelid
flickered, and I knew it was all right.

"Well, I can't help it," I said, sinking back into my chair and
lighting a cigarette.

"Poor old chap!" said Daphne. "I believe you thought we had done you
down."

"Of course I didn't. Is it to-morrow you've got to go up to Town,
Jill?"

"Yes, Boy. Are you going up, too?"

"Must. I'll give you lunch at the Berkeley if you like, dear."

Jill came across and laid her cheek against mine.

"I always like Boy, because he's grateful," she said gently.

Three days later our fellow-mummers began to arrive. A deep melancholy
had settled upon me. I cursed the play, I cursed the players, I cursed
my part, and most of all I cursed the day which had seen me cast for
Buckingham. Whenever I picked up the book, I saw my queen, Alice,
standing there by the fallen tree or sitting looking up at me as I bent
over her chair in the parlour of 'The Old Drum'. And now her place was
to be taken, usurped by another--a Miss Tanyon--whom I hated terribly,
though I didn't know her, and the very idea of whom was enough to kill
any dramatic instinct I once seemed to possess. Whenever I remembered
my promise to Alice, I writhed. So odious are comparisons.

When Daphne announced that the wretched woman was coming by the
five-fourteen, and that she should go with the car to meet her, and
added that I had better come, too, I refused point-blank.

"I don't know what's the matter with you," said my sister. "Don't you
want to see the girl you'll have to play the love-scene with?"

This about finished me, and I laughed bitterly.

"No," I said, "I'm damned if I do."

When Daphne pressed her point as only Daphne can, I felt really too
timid and bored with the whole affair to argue about it, so I gave way.
Accordingly, at ten minutes past five, I stood moodily on the platform
by my sister's side. The train steamed in, and the passengers began to
alight. Daphne scanned them eagerly.

"I don't see her," she said half to herself.

We were standing half-way down the platform, and I turned and looked
listlessly towards the front of the train. That end of the platform
was empty except for two people. One was a stoker who had stepped off
the foot-plate. The other was Alice. She was in blue still--a blue
coat and skirt, with a fox fur about her