rom Bursley. Stephen, kept by
business, was coming later, and so was some of the baggage.

Mr Bittenger's face radiated joy. The loss of his twenty-guinea passage
on the Saxonia did not appear to cause him the least regret.

And he sat down by the side of Vera.

And Vera suddenly noticed that they were on a sofa--the sofa of her
dream--and she fancied she recognized the room.

'You know, my dear lady,' said Mr Bittenger, looking her straight in
the eyes, 'I'm just GLAD I missed my steamer. It gives me a chance to
spend a Christmas in England, and in your delightful society--your
delightful society--' He gazed at her, without adding to the sentence.

If this was not love-making on a sofa, what could be?

Mr Bittenger had certainly missed the Liverpool express on purpose. Of
that Vera was convinced. Or, if he had not missed it on purpose, he had
missed it under the dictates of the mysterious power of the dream.
Those people who chose to believe that dreams are nonsense were at
liberty to do so.

IV

So that in spite of Vera's definite proclamation that there should be
no Christmassing in her house that year, Christmassing there
emphatically was. Impossible to deny anything to Mr Bittenger! Mr
Bittenger wanted holly, the gardener supplied it. Mr Bittenger wanted
mistletoe, a bunch of it was brought home by Stephen in the dogcart. Mr
Bittenger could not conceive an English Christmas without turkey,
mince-pies, plum-pudding, and all the usual indigestiveness. Vera,
speaking in a voice which seemed somehow not to be hers, stated that
these necessaries of Christmas life would be produced, and Stephen did
not say that the very thought of a mince-tart made him ill. Even the
English weather, which, it is notorious, has of late shown a sad
disposition to imitate, and even to surpass, in mildness the weather of
the Riviera at Christmas, decided to oblige Mr Bittenger. At nightfall
on Christmas Eve it began to snow gently, but steadily--fine, frozen
snow. And the waits, consisting of boys and girls from the Countess of
Chell's celebrated institute close by, came and sang in the garden in
the falling snow, by the light of a lantern. And Mr Bittenger's heart
was as full as it could hold of English Christmas.

As for Vera's heart, it was full of she knew not what. Mr Bittenger's
attitude towards her grew more and more chivalrous. He contrived to
indicate that he regarded all the years he had spent before making the
a