e together at the other end, and were looking out of
the window across the park. She took George discreetly away from his own
room.

Of yesterday Randal and Dick had already talked much that morning; but
of that adventure which he accounted the greatest, Dick had said
nothing.

"Amaryllis has told me," said Randal.

"I'm glad," said Dick. "It didn't come easy to start the subject. I'm
not used to it yet."

"Neither of you could have done better," said the elder brother. "I
congratulate you, dear boy. And I want to give you--to make you a
present of a thing that isn't mine--couldn't have been mine, anyhow.
But, all the same, I give it you."

"Thanks," replied the younger. "But what the devil d'you mean?"

Randal looked at him.

"You don't mean--you----" began Dick, and stopped short, shocked by
conviction.

"Yes, I do. And I don't think I should ever have let you know it, Dick,
but that it doesn't seem comfortable for a girl to carry about with her
even a little thing like that which she can't speak of to her husband.
So now you know. And there is a way of giving even what one could not
withhold. She's perfect, Dick."

"Like the giver," said his brother.

And it was to Randal also that he owed the few minutes which he was able
to get alone with Amaryllis before lunch.

He went up to Caldegard.

"Have you heard Bruffin describe Dick's solo on the dinner-bells--last
night, you know? Well come and see if he's in the hall now," he said,
and dragged the old man away.

Left alone together,

"It's like a dream," said Amaryllis; and, "Which!" asked Dick.

"Yesterday," said the girl, peering at his calm face.

"It's this that's like dreaming, to me," he answered. "When you're awake
you make things happen. When you're asleep, things have the best of
it--make you follow their lead. Yesterday, Amaryllis, I was some bloke,
because I was useful to you. If I'd had time to think, I'd have thought
very strong beer of myself. But now I'm--oh, a giddy little stranger
that's taken the wrong turning and got in among the Birds of Paradise."

And he touched gingerly the sleeve of her frock,

"Lady Elizabeth's," she said. "You score. Dick. You've got your own, and
they fit."

"Do I fit?" asked Dick.

"You don't really mean you feel strange and lost in _this_ dream, do
you?" she asked a little anxiously.

"I don't mean I feel strange in civilised life. That's only a variation
on savagery--a mere matter of degree--and