just now. Perhaps
she thought it was funny I didn't say I'd had it. I must tell her."

He returned her letter to its envelope and put the envelope in his
pocket. Then wheeled his bicycle into his gate. He smiled. "Mabel will
be surprised at me back like this."

Mabel was descending the stairs as he entered the hall. In the white
dress she wore she made a pleasant picture against the broad, shallow
stairway and the dark panelling. But she did not appear particularly
pleased to see him. But he thought, "Why should she be? That's just it.
That's why I've come back."

"Hullo?" she greeted him. "Have you forgotten something?"

He smiled invitingly. "No, I've just come back. I suddenly thought we'd
have a holiday."

She showed puzzlement. "A holiday? What, the office? All of you?"

She had paused three steps from the foot of the stairs, her right hand
on the banisters.

His wife!...

He slid his hand up the rail and rested it on hers. "Good lord, no. Not
the office. No, I suddenly thought we'd have a holiday. You and I."

He half hoped she would respond to the touch of his hand by turning the
palm of her own to it. But he thought, "Why should she?" and she did
not. She said, "But how extraordinary! Whatever for?"

"Well, why not?"

"But what did you say at the office? What reason did you give?"

"Didn't give any. I just said I thought I wouldn't be back."

"But whatever will Mr. Fortune think?"

"Oh, what does it matter what he thinks? He won't think anything about
it."

"But he'll think it's funny."

He thought, "Dash these buts!" This was what he called "niggling." It
was on the tip of his tongue to say, "Why niggle about the thing?" but
he recollected his purpose; that was him all over and that was just it!
He said brightly, "Let him. Do him good. The idea suddenly came to me as
a bit of a lark to have an unexpected holiday with you, and I just
cleared off and came!"

She had descended and he moved along the hall with her towards the
morning room.

"It's rather extraordinary," she said.

She certainly was not enthusiastic over it. She asked, "Well, what are
you going to do?"

He wished he had thought of some plan as he came along. "What time's
lunch? Half-past one? What about getting your bike and going for a bit
of a run first?"

She was at a drawer of her table where she kept, with beautiful
neatness, implements for various household duties. A pair of long
scissors came out. "I can't possibl