e could not spare time for coffee
or a liqueur. It was an office which he had once hated, because it
absorbed time and strength which he needed for his own work; he had
treated it cavalierly, from time to time writing letters of resignation
and throwing them into a drawer. As he settled to the familiar table in
the crowded, ill-lit room, he wondered whether he would be of the lucky
number for whom the Government service would find openings at the end of
the war. He had yet to prove that he could earn a living again as a
journalist; and efficiency mattered little in a civil servant, for, if
his work were good, some one else would get the credit, and, if it were
bad, it would be undiscovered. . . .

A drawling voice from the War Office broke in upon his musings. Had not
Mr. Lane been making enquiries about a Captain Waring? His name was on
the next list of prisoners to be transferred to Switzerland; his
relations would be informed officially.

Eric telephoned at once to Colonel Waring and Barbara. As he dressed for
dinner, Agnes arrived in a laden car with both her parents, clamorous
for help in securing passports. They were staying at the Charing Cross
Hotel with their boxes packed, waiting for further news, and the
radiance in their eyes scorched him. Barbara had received the news
almost without comment; he wondered what manner she would shew him;
perhaps this was the last time that they would ever meet. . . .

"I'm not _sure_ that her ladyship's dressed yet. . . . If you wouldn't
mind waiting, sir. . . . I _have_ taken the paper into her ladyship's
room. . . . I hope you've been keeping well, sir. . . .?"

Eric started in physical pain at the familiar friendliness of the old
butler. The little confidences, introduced with a deprecatory cough,
floated down from a height one stair above him. Barbara's room, as ever,
was in chaos; her kitten, roused by his entrance, stretched herself and
arched her back. Then the other door opened, and Barbara hurried in. Her
arms were soft and cool as ever against his cheeks, and he caught a
well-remembered breath of carnations as her head bent low on to his
breast. He held her close; but his pressure suddenly relaxed, and he
stepped back.

"Don't you like kissing me any more?" she asked. "I've been hungry for
you all these months!"

"I was thinking what it would be like if you suddenly took yourself out
of my life," said Eric.

"Darling, why must you spoil the present by draggin