“You do better than any one!” He had struck a match for another cigarette, and the flame lighted an instant his responsive finished face, magnifying into a pleasant grimace the kindness with which he paid her this tribute. “You’re awfully clever, you know; cleverer, cleverer, cleverer—!” He had appeared on the point of making some tremendous statement; then suddenly, puffing his cigarette and shifting almost with violence on his seat, he let it altogether fall. CHAPTER XVII. In spite of this drop, if not just by reason of it, she felt as if Lady Bradeen, all but named out, had popped straight up; and she practically betrayed her consciousness by waiting a little before she rejoined: “Cleverer than who?” “Well, if I wasn’t afraid you’d think I swagger, I should say—than anybody! If you leave your place there, where shall you go?” he more gravely asked. “Oh too far for you ever to find me!” “I’d find you anywhere.” The tone of this was so still more serious that she had but her one acknowledgement. “I’d do anything for you—I’d do anything for you,” she repeated. She had already, she felt, said it all; so what did anything more, anything less, matter? That was the very reason indeed why she could, with a lighter note, ease him generously of any awkwardness produced by solemnity, either his own or hers. “Of course it must be nice for you to be able to think there are people all about who feel in such a way.” In immediate appreciation of this, however, he only smoked without looking at her. “But you don’t want to give up your present work?” he at last threw out. “I mean you _will_ stay in the post-office?” “Oh yes; I think I’ve a genius for that.” “Rather! No one can touch you.” With this he turned more to her again. “But you can get, with a move, greater advantages?” “I can get in the suburbs cheaper lodgings. I live with my mother. We need some space. There’s a particular place that has other inducements.” He just hesitated. “Where is it?” “Oh quite out of _your_ way. You’d never have time.” “But I tell you I’d go anywhere. Don’t you believe it?” “Yes, for once or twice. But you’d soon see it wouldn’t do for you.” He smoked and considered; seemed to stretch himself a little and, with his legs out, surrender himself comfortably. “Well, well, well—I believe everything you say. I take it from you—anything you like—in the most extraordinary way.” It struck her certainly—and almost without bitterness—that the way in which she was already, as if she had been an old friend, arranging for him and preparing the only magnificence she could muster, was quite the most extraordinary. “Don’t, _don’t_ go!” he presently went on. “I shall miss you too horribly!”