that little box beside you. I'll have one too." He lighted a match for
her, and as she bent forward he saw the tiny flame glow in the pearl
ring she wore. "It is to-morrow that you're going, isn't it?" said Anne.

"Yes, to-morrow as ever was," said Reggie, and he blew a little fan of
smoke. Why on earth was he so nervous? Nervous wasn't the word for it.

"It's--it's frightfully hard to believe," he added.

"Yes--isn't it?" said Anne softly, and she leaned forward and rolled
the point of her cigarette round the green ash-tray. How beautiful
she looked like that!--simply beautiful--and she was so small in that
immense chair. Reginald's heart swelled with tenderness, but it was her
voice, her soft voice, that made him tremble. "I feel you've been here
for years," she said.

Reginald took a deep breath of his cigarette. "It's ghastly, this idea
of going back," he said.

"Coo-roo-coo-coo-coo," sounded from the quiet.

"But you're fond of being out there, aren't you?" said Anne. She hooked
her finger through her pearl necklace. "Father was saying only the other
night how lucky he thought you were to have a life of your own." And
she looked up at him. Reginald's smile was rather wan. "I don't feel
fearfully lucky," he said lightly.

"Roo-coo-coo-coo," came again. And Anne murmured, "You mean it's
lonely."

"Oh, it isn't the loneliness I care about," said Reginald, and he
stumped his cigarette savagely on the green ash-tray. "I could stand any
amount of it, used to like it even. It's the idea of--" Suddenly, to his
horror, he felt himself blushing.

"Roo-coo-coo-coo! Roo-coo-coo-coo!"

Anne jumped up. "Come and say good-bye to my doves," she said. "They've
been moved to the side veranda. You do like doves, don't you, Reggie?"

"Awfully," said Reggie, so fervently that as he opened the French window
for her and stood to one side, Anne ran forward and laughed at the doves
instead.

To and fro, to and fro over the fine red sand on the floor of the dove
house, walked the two doves. One was always in front of the other. One
ran forward, uttering a little cry, and the other followed, solemnly
bowing and bowing. "You see," explained Anne, "the one in front, she's
Mrs. Dove. She looks at Mr. Dove and gives that little laugh and runs
forward, and he follows her, bowing and bowing. And that makes her laugh
again. Away she runs, and after her," cried Anne, and she sat back on
her heels, "comes poor Mr. Dove, bowing and bow