She smiled seriously and passed it by. "He was like a schoolboy let out of school," she said with a sudden jerkiness, "he was so pleased. Poor boy! I knew it must mean a lot to him not to have to worry about money any more for a whole year, and--and to get away." "Yes," said Rokeby gravely, "yes. And how are _you_ going to celebrate _your_ holiday, Mrs. Kerr?" She looked at him quickly. A smile broke round her lips. "Do you know," she dared, as if shocked at herself, "last night I was heartbroken; this morning I was bitter; this afternoon I came up to town to try to shake it off--" "I hope you've shaken it?" "I--I hardly know. I shall miss him so when I get back. But--but I've got a whole year. _A year!_ But why bother you with these things? A woman would understand; Julia would." "I suppose you're making a day of it? Going to see Miss Winter this evening perhaps, and tell her all about it?" She scarcely noticed the eager note in his voice. "That's an idea!" she exclaimed. "I was wondering what I'd do about this evening, and I was determined not to go home till ten o'clock. I don't know why, but if I can make myself stay right away on my own pleasure till then it will be like breaking a spell. But why I'm talking like this to you I don't know. You'll think me mad." "No, I shan't." An office-boy staggered in with tea, and for a while the business of it kept them lightly occupied, and talking inconsequently; but presently Rokeby went back to: "So you _are_ going to see Miss Winter this evening? Look here, Mrs. Kerr, Osborn would never forgive me if I let you go alone. I'll take you--yes, please. Do let me! We'll both give her a surprise." Recovering a spark of the old audacity which her prettiness used to justify, she laughed: "No, you won't. We shall want to talk--and _talk_. You'd be in the way." "I solemnly swear I won't. I'll wash up and do a lot of the jobs bachelor girls always keep for their men friends to do. I'll sit and smoke in the kitchen. Honest, I will! There, now?" Her laughter was real and merry. "_You_? What's come to you?" "I hardly know," said Rokeby quickly, in a low voice. Marie's hand and eyes were hovering critically over the dish of cakes; youth and delicious silliness had visited her, if but for an hour, and a curious kind of champagne happiness fizzed through her. The earnestness of Desmond's sudden look passed her by; at the moment there was nothing earnest in her; she was, all so suddenly, a holiday woman out for the day. Selecting her cake, she began to eat it. "It will be awf'ly good of you to take me there," she answered; "it will be something to write and tell Osborn about." "Do wives have to hunt for topics for letters, as they have to hunt for suitable conversation, when husbands want it?" "Oh! have you noticed that?" "I've noticed my married friends seem to have very little of interest to say to each other." "Why is it?"