subsidence in the contents of a bottle of cognac
that Thor kept at the office for emergency cases and had neglected to
put under lock and key.

"That was a full bottle a month ago," Thor declared, holding the
accusing object up to the light.

"Was it, sir?" Dearlove asked, dismally. He stood in his habitual
attitude, his arms crossed on his stomach, his hands thrust, monklike,
into his sleeves.

"And I've only taken one glass out of it--the day that young fellow fell
off his bicycle."

Dearlove eyed the bottle piteously. "'Aven't you, sir? Perhaps you took
more out that day than you thought."

But Thor broke in with what was really on his mind. "Look here,
Dearlove! What would you say to a man who was in love with one woman if
he married another?"

Dearlove was so astonished as to be for a minute at a loss for speech.
"What'd I say to him, sir? I'd say, what did he do it for? If it was--"

"Yes, Dearlove?" Thor encouraged. "If it was for--what?"

"Well, sir, if he'd got money with her, like--well, that'd be one
thing."

"But if he didn't? If it was a case in which money didn't matter?"

Dearlove shook his head. "I never 'eard of no such case as that, sir."

Thor grew interested in the sheerly human aspects of the subject.
Romance was so novel to him that he wondered if every one came under its
spell at some time--if there was no exception, not even Dearlove. He
leaned across the desk, his hands clasped upon it.

"Now, Dearlove, suppose it was your own case, and--"

"Oh, me, sir! I'm no example to no one--not with Brightstone 'anging on
to me the way she does. I can't look friendly at so much as a kitten
without Brightstone--"

"Now here's the situation, Dearlove," Thor interrupted, while the
ex-butler listened, his head judicially inclined to one side: "Suppose a
man--a patient of mine, let us say--meant to marry one young lady, and
let her see it. And suppose, later, he fell very much in love with
another young lady--"

"He'd 'ave to ease the first one off a bit, wouldn't he, sir?"

"You think he ought to."

"I think he'd 'ave to, sir, unless he wanted to be sued for breach."

"It's the question of duty I'm thinking of, Dearlove."

"Ain't it his dooty to marry the one he's in love with, sir? Doesn't the
Good Book say as 'ow fallin' in love"--Dearlove blushed becomingly--"as
'ow fallin' in love is the way God A'mighty means to fertilize the earth
with people? Doesn't the Good Book say that, sir?"