"Strange. That is what the author said, that it was a close portrait of a near friend." "What is it, about him, that you do not like?" "Oh, I like him, in a way. But these reformers, idealists, thinking they can dream the world into Arcadia!" Bambi's clear laugh startled him. "What amuses you so?" he asked, shortly. "I suppose I rather like the idealist type." He looked at her closely. "Good heavens, you don't think I'm like that, do you?" "A little," she admitted. "If I thought that I was that particular brand of idiot I'd learn bookkeeping and be a clerk," was the reply. "Maybe it isn't you--maybe it is just _man_ I recognize." "You can see how terribly clever the woman is--to set each of us accusing the other." "She is just a student of types, that's all," Bambi disparaged the lady. So they began their co-partnership. The shyness, the appeal, the new self-conscious element Bambi had sensed in Jarvis gave way to the old mental relationship as fellow workman. They had regular office hours, as they called it. They experimented to see whether they obtained the best results, when they each worked at a scene alone and went over it together for the final polishing; or when they actually worked on it in unison. Four hours in the morning they laboured, took an hour of recess after lunch, then two hours more, followed by a tramp off into the country, talking play, play, play. These were days of keen delight to them both. They worked together so smoothly and so well. Jarvis's high-handed superiority had given way to a well-grounded respect for Bambi's quick apprehension of a false note, an unnatural line, or a bungled climax. The first interruption came with the advent of Richard Strong to spend the weekend, and Jarvis made no comment when Bambi announced his coming and declared Saturday a holiday. He even agreed to meet their guest at the station. The two men came back together in amicable converse. "I am so glad you could come, Richard," Bambi greeted him, in her eager way. Jarvis started at the Christian name, and flushed angrily at Strong's reply. "Happy New Year, Francesca!" Richard and Francesca--so they had gone as far as that on the road to intimacy was Jarvis's hurt comment to himself. After that he watched Strong every minute for signs of special devotion, and before the day was over he had satisfied himself that these two cared deeply for each other. The way Strong's eyes followed her every movement, the way he anticipated her wants, understood her before she spoke--they were all damning evidences of the situation. That Bambi showed herself grateful, as vividly as she did everything else, entirely escaped Jarvis. She loved him, that was the truth, and he alone stood between her and happiness.