great gasp, and he pushed her away almost
roughly.

"Don't--for God's sake, don't, Joan. . . ."

"My dear," she cried, catching his arm, "forgive me. The Blue Bird's
not gone, Derek--it's still there. Don't frighten it--oh! don't. We
won't snatch at it, won't even think of making any plans for caging
it--we'll just assume it's going to stop. . . . I believe it will
then. . . . And afterwards--why what does afterwards matter? Let's be
happy while we may, and--perhaps, who knows--we will cheat those
grinning imps after all. . . ."

"Right," cried Vane, catching her hands, "right, right, right. What
shall we do, my dear, to celebrate the presence of our blue
visitor? . . ."

For a moment she thought, and then her eyes lit up. "You're still on
leave, aren't you?"

"Even so, lady."

"Then to-morrow we will take a car. . . ."

"My car," interrupted Vane. "And I've got ten gallons of petrol."

"Glorious. We'll take your car, and will start ever so early, and go
to the river. Sonning, I think--to that ripping pub where the roses
are. And then we'll go on the river for the whole day, and take Binks,
and an invisible cage for the Blue Bird. . . . We'll take our food,
and a bone for Binks and the squeaky dog. Then in the evening we'll
have dinner at the White Hart, and Binks shall have a napkin and sit up
at table. And then after dinner we'll come home. My dear, but it's
going to be Heaven." She was in his arms and her eyes were shining
like stars. "There's only one rule. All through the whole day--no
one, not even Binks--is allowed to think about the day after."

Vane regarded her with mock gravity. "Not even if we're arrested for
joy riding?" he demanded.

"But the mascot will prevent that, silly boy," she cried. "Why would
we be taking that cage for otherwise?"

"I see," said Vane. "It's the most idyllic picture I've ever even
thought of. There's only one thing. I feel I must speak about it and
get it over." He looked so serious that for a moment her face clouded.
"Do not forget--I entreat of you, do not forget--your meat coupon."
And then with the laughter that civilisation has decreed shall not be
heard often, save on the lips of children, a man and a girl forgot
everything save themselves. The world of men and matters rolled on and
passed them by, and maybe a year of Hell is fair exchange for that
brief space. . . .

CHAPTER XIII

The next morning dawned propitious, and Vane