“That,” said Forsyth uncertainly, “is not admittedly the function of trustees. Still, there are times when they are inconvenient. They certainly tend to cramp the style. Nevertheless . . . I’ll tell you what,” he added suddenly. “If you like, I’ll be your trustee.” The two raised their eyes to heaven ecstatically. “A little more,” said Katharine, “and you shall use our bathroom.” “That,” explained Giles, “is a kind of Garter—the highest honour it’s in our power to bestow.” Forsyth picked up a pen. “Tell me,” he said, “what sort of an arrangement you want.” “Well, we’re going shares,” said Giles. “Once a month, I’ll send her two-thirds of all the dividends and rents I’ve had.” “Of course it’s grotesque,” said Katharine, “but I’ll do the same.” “Yes? What about the house?” “She’s going to caretake for me, and keep the servants on. I shall pay half her expenses.” “Oh, rot!” said Mrs. Festival. “My dear,” said Giles, “the bed of my mind is made up. Don’t rumple it.” “I think that’s fair,” said Forsyth, wondering what the Law Society would say. “Next?” “He’ll take the Rolls,” said Katharine, “and I’ll have the coupé.” Giles hesitated. “I had thought——” he began. “Don’t be Quixotic,” said his wife. “You worship that car. Last time I drove her, you said——” “Not before the child,” said Giles. “I withdraw. Besides, I never meant it. I was all worked up, I was. You worked me.” “That all?” said Forsyth hastily. “Well, I shall take my sponge,” said Giles. “She’s very kindly promised to let me use hers, if—er . . .” By a superhuman effort Forsyth maintained his gravity. “That sort of thing’s understood,” he said shortly. “I’ll put in the usual covenants not to molest, pledge credit—er—er—etc., and myself as trustee. I suppose you want it at once?” “As soon as you can,” said Giles. “If we could have it to-night, we could go over it together, sign it, and I could push off to-morrow morning.” “I’ll try. When you’ve signed it, return it to me. I’ll send you copies to keep in a day or two’s time. By the way, what’s your address?” Captain Festival mentioned a club. “Right.” The lawyer rose to his feet and preceded the two to the door. “I’m sorry, you know, but I’m glad you came to me. Come again whenever you please. I’ll show no fear nor favour—I promise you that. Let three be company, even if two’s none.” They shook hands silently. By one consent, Captain and Mrs. Festival drove straight to Bond Street and selected a gold cigarette-case. This was presently engraved and then delivered to an address in Lincoln’s Inn Fields. The inscription was simple. G . G.K.F . F * * * * * The news of the separation spread slowly.