“So did you. Now—one brief hour after we’ve left it, you begin to boggle at what you call the wisdom of pickin’ the godsend up.” He flung up his hands with a despairing gesture and subsided heavily upon the club-kerb. “I’m afraid the gent’s fickle,” said Julia, “as well as selfish.” Challenger set his teeth. “On Friday Hill Street has it. On Saturday South Street’s the peach. I wonder what’ll win it on Monday.” “Monday?” cried Hubert. “You don’t mean to suggest——” “Why not?” said Julia. Her _fiancé_ drew in his breath. “If you seek sorrow on Monday, you seek it alone.” “Don’t be absurd,” said Julia. “I’m not being absurd,” raved Hubert. “The whole thing’s monstrous. One of us is insane.” “I agree,” said Miss Willow. “But for me, you’d ’ve taken Hill Street. Now I’ve shown you something better you’re all over that. On Monday——” “You admit it’s better?” “Not at all. We’ve got to make up our minds between the three. If we had those doors gilded—— Where are you going?” “I’m going to some place where I can burst,” said Hubert wildly. “I don’t want to do it here. I’ve no quarrel with your parents.” “Have you a quarrel with me?” “I soon shall have,” said Challenger, wiping his brow. “It’s eighty-eight in the shade, I’ve walked about sixteen miles over bare boards, and now I’m expected to sit still and watch you tear everything up out of sheer, wanton, blasphemous caprice. It’s enough to induce a blood-clot.” “Of course,” said Julia, “you’re making me simply hate South Street. That’s my nature, you know. I’m really too easy-going. Treat me nicely, and I’ll eat right out of your hand from morning to night. But if you try and ram something down my throat, it just revolts me.” “First the truth,” said her squire, “and then the fiction. If you were easy-going, we shouldn’t have visited over half a hundred private residences in six days. Unless I was easy-going and a full-marks fool, I shouldn’t have gone with you. As for——” “When I said ‘easy-going,’” said Julia, “I did not mean ‘indolent’ or ‘labour-shy.’” “And when I called you ‘capricious,’” retorted Challenger, “I meant ‘capricious’ with a well-known adverb in front.” Two red spots appeared in Miss Willow’s cheeks. Hubert proceeded vigorously, “For Heaven’s sake, Julia, pull up your socks. By noon on Monday I’ll bet that flat has gone. The next fool that sees it won’t wait. And while we’re sweating up strange staircases, wondering whether we should be wise to have the Sloane Street doors nickel-plated or the bathrooms at Hill Street filled in, the last word in habitations will be signed over. Then I suppose I shall get it for being dilatory.” Julia rose to her feet. “Wrong again,” she said. “You won’t even get it for being abusive—because you won’t be engaged.” The man’s lips tightened. “This little episode, Hubert, has opened my eyes. And I fear that life with you in South Street or anywhere else would be just a shade too exacting for this little girl.”