been dull, and what light there was had been failing when we had
visited the shrine. To-day, however, was all glorious.

If we had risen early, we had our reward.

The place had become a gallery with jewels for pictures. Out of the
sombre depths the aged webs of magic glowed with the matchless flush of
precious stones. From every side colours we had not dreamed of
enriched our eyes. To make the great west rose, the world herself
might have been spoiled of her gems. Looking upon this mystery, no man
can wonder that the art is lost. Clearly it went the way of Babel.
For of such is the Kingdom of Heaven. Windows the sun was lighting
were at once more real and more magnificent. Crimsons and blues,
purples and greens, yellows and violets, blazed with that ancient
majesty which only lives to-day in the peal of a great organ, the call
of a silver trumpet, or the proud roll of drums. Out of the gorgeous
pageant mote-ridden rays issued like messengers, to badge the cold grey
stone with tender images and set a smile upon the face of stateliness.
"Such old, old panes," says someone. "Six hundred years and more. How
wonderful!" Pardon me, but I have seen them, and it is not wonderful
at all. Beneath their spell, centuries shrink to afternoons. The
windows of Chartres are above Time. They are the peepholes of
Immortality.

We returned to the hotel in time to contribute to a heated argument
upon the subject of tipping.

"It's perfectly simple," said Berry. "You think of what you would hate
to have given before the War, double it, add forty per cent. for the
increased cost of living, halve it because of the Exchange, ask them
whether they'd like it in notes or gold, and pay them in
postage-stamps."

"I want to know," said Daphne, "what to give the chambermaid."

"Eight francs fifty. That's the equivalent of half-a-crown before the
War."

"Nonsense," said his wife. "Five francs is heaps, and you know it."

"I think it's too much," said Berry. "Give her one instead, and tell
her you've hidden the rest in the bathroom and that, when she touches
the towel-rail, she's warm."

"As a matter of fact," said Jill uneasily, "it's all over. I've done
it."

There was a dreadful silence. Then--

"Tell us the worst," said I, "and get it over."

"I'm--I'm afraid I gave her rather a lot, but she had a nice face."

"She had a nice step," said Berry. "I noticed that about five this
morning."

"How much?" said I