“Oh, but you will before I go. We shan’t go before next Friday. In fact I can’t. You see, I only get off in the afternoons, and William says there’s a waistcoat——” “I capitulate,” said Willoughby quietly. “Friday? In three days’ time? Is Mrs.—er—Mrs.——“. “Le Fevre.” “—Le Fevre weary of Holy Brush?” “Not that I know of,” said Spring. “I want your advice.” “Yes?” said Willoughby. “I have been offered another situation.” “As companion?” “Yes.” Bagot took out tobacco and started to fill a pipe. “First of all,” he said slowly, “are you happy with Mrs. Le Fevre?” “Very. She’s awfully sweet.” “Then I take it the new situation would be an improvement financially?” “Yes,” said Spring shortly, “it would.” “D’you think that you’ld have as much freedom?” “I know that I shouldn’t.” “You might be happier.” “I might,” said Spring. “I’m not at all sure; but I might.” Willoughby frowned. Then— “Might you be less happy, Spring?” “Easily.” The man slid his pouch into a pocket and rose to his feet. “My dear,” he said, “unless the increase in salary is too big to be ignored, my advice is to stay where you are.” There was a pause. At length— “I think I ought to say,” said Spring slowly, “that the offer was made by a man.” Willoughby’s heart gave one bound. For a second he hesitated. Then— “That alters everything,” he said. “Why?” “Because companions, like Grooms of the Chambers, do not figure in the table of relative precedence, whereas. . . .” Spring stared out of the window and into the park. “You’ve seen him,” she said. “Twice. But then you knew that.” Willoughby nodded. “I should say,” he said quietly, “that he was one of the best.” “In fact, if I don’t accept, I shall be selling a bed of roses for the second ‘o’ in smoke?” Willoughby set his teeth. “Dear Spring,” he said, “I can’t advise your heart—only your head. But I’m bound to say that, placed as you are, you should do what your head tells you, if you possibly can. Think of the future.” “I do,” said Spring. “That’s what worries me so.” “Supposing Mrs. Le Fevre were to die and you to fall sick.” “Supposing my husband treated me like a dog.” “I’m quite sure he wouldn’t,” said Bagot. “He wouldn’t do it twice,” said Spring sweetly. “The point is,” said Willoughby, swallowing, “that companions can be given notice, but wives can’t.” “Wives can’t give notice, either.” “I’ve heard of its being done.” “Then you advise me to take my precious offer and thank my stars.”