lders, as he went out to the street. 'Your infernal
magnanimity would break any man's temper.'

I went upstairs to find Blenkiron, washed and shaven, admiring a pair
of bright patent-leather shoes.

'Why, Dick, I've been wearying bad to see you. I was nervous you would
be blown to glory, for I've been reading awful things about your
battles in the noospapers. The war correspondents worry me so I can't
take breakfast.'

He mixed cocktails and clinked his glass on mine. 'Here's to the young
lady. I was trying to write her a pretty little sonnet, but the darned
rhymes wouldn't fit. I've gotten a heap of things to say to you when
we've finished dinner.'

Mary came in, her cheeks bright from the weather, and Blenkiron
promptly fell abashed. But she had a way to meet his shyness, for, when
he began an embarrassed speech of good wishes, she put her arms round
his neck and kissed him. Oddly enough, that set him completely at his
ease.

It was pleasant to eat off linen and china again, pleasant to see old
Blenkiron's benignant face and the way he tucked into his food, but it
was delicious for me to sit at a meal with Mary across the table. It
made me feel that she was really mine, and not a pixie that would
vanish at a word. To Blenkiron she bore herself like an affectionate
but mischievous daughter, while the desperately refined manners that
afflicted him whenever women were concerned mellowed into something
like his everyday self. They did most of the talking, and I remember he
fetched from some mysterious hiding-place a great box of chocolates,
which you could no longer buy in Paris, and the two ate them like
spoiled children. I didn't want to talk, for it was pure happiness for
me to look on. I loved to watch her, when the servants had gone, with
her elbows on the table like a schoolboy, her crisp gold hair a little
rumpled, cracking walnuts with gusto, like some child who has been
allowed down from the nursery for dessert and means to make the most of
it.

With his first cigar Blenkiron got to business.

'You want to know about the staff-work we've been busy on at home.
Well, it's finished now, thanks to you, Dick. We weren't getting on
very fast till you took to peroosing the press on your sick-bed and
dropped us that hint about the "Deep-breathing" ads.'

'Then there was something in it?' I asked.

'There was black hell in it. There wasn't any Gussiter, but there was a
mighty fine little syndicate of crooks wi