'And Geraldine?' Aunt Annie asked. 'Leave me to look after the little girl,' said Henry. He then dozed for a few moments. The dinner, with the Arctic lamps dotted about the table, and two servants to wait, began in the most stately and effective fashion imaginable. But it had got no further than the host's first spoonful of _soupe aux moules_, when the host rose abruptly, and without a word departed from the room. The sisters nodded to each other with the cheerful gloom of prophetesses who find themselves in the midst of a disaster which they have predicted. 'You poor, foolish boy!' exclaimed Geraldine, running after Henry. She was adorably attired in white. * * * * * The clash of creeds was stilled in the darkened and sumptuous chamber, as the three women bent with murmurous affection over the bed on which lay, swathed in a redolent apparatus of eau-de-Cologne and fine linen, their hope and the hope of English literature. Towards midnight, when the agony had somewhat abated, Mrs. Knight and Aunt Annie reluctantly retired in a coupe which Geraldine had ordered for them by telephone. And in the early June dawn Henry awoke, refreshed and renewed, full of that languid but genuine interest in mortal things which is at once the compensation and the sole charm of a dyspepsy. By reaching out an arm he could just touch the hand of his wife as she slept in her twin couch. He touched it; she awoke, and they exchanged the morning smile. 'I'm glad that's over,' he said. But whether he meant the _marrons glaces_ or the first visit of his beloved elders to the glorious flat cannot be decided. Certain it is, however, that deep in the minds of both the spouses was the idea that the new life, the new heaven on the new earth, had now fairly begun. CHAPTER XXVII HE IS NOT NERVOUS 'Yes,' said Henry with judicial calm, after he had read Mr. Doxey's stage version of _Love in Babylon_, 'it makes a nice little piece.' 'I'm glad you like it, old chap,' said Doxey. 'I thought you would.' They were in Henry's study, seated almost side by side at Henry's great American roll-top desk. 'You've got it a bit hard in places,' Henry pursued. 'But I'll soon put that right.' 'Can you do it to-day?' asked the adapter. 'Why?' 'Because I know old Johnny Pilgrim wants to shove a new curtain-raiser into the bill at once. If I could take him this to-morrow----' 'I'll post it to you to-night,' said Henry. 'But I shall want to see Mr. Pilgrim myself before anything is definitely arranged.' 'Oh, of course,' Mr. Doxey agreed. 'Of course. I'll tell him.'