Elsie put on a dark blue coat and skirt, with a new pale blue jumper of artificial silk, and a big black hat with a blue feather. Round her neck she wore a small black fur. After her variable wont, she had suddenly recovered her looks, after the sodden, stupefied ugliness that the morning’s unhappiness had produced in her. Her eyes seemed more widely opened than usual, her hair fell into thick curls and rings, and a soft, bright colour lay under her oddly prominent cheek-bones. She rubbed lip-stick on to her full, sulkily-cut mouth, and lavishly powdered her straight, beautiful neck. The glow of excitement and gladness transformed her as she went out to meet Morrison, slamming the door of the villa behind her. “Darling!” “My own dear little girl!” said Leslie, and held both her gloved hands for a moment in his. “I haven’t been able to think of anything but what you told me this afternoon. Are we going for a walk, or will you come in?” “I’d like to come in and sit down,” said Elsie languidly. “Have you had tea?” “No. I’ll order some.” “Not for me, boy. I’m meeting Horace for a meal in about an hour and a half. We’re going to the theatre.” “Have you made it up, then?” “Oh, I suppose so! He telephoned and said he had these tickets. I suppose he thought it’d make up, in a way.” They chose a corner table at the further end of the tea-shop, and Elsie took off her coat and leant against it as it lay folded over the back of her chair. “Where did he hurt you this morning?” said Morrison intently. She pulled up the loose sleeve of her silk jumper. “Look!” Her smooth, soft arm was already discoloured all round the elbow and up to the shoulder. “It’s worse higher up, only I can’t get at it now to show you.” “_Damn_ him!” Leslie Morrison muttered between his teeth. His boyish face was black with an intensity of feeling that Elsie had seldom seen there of late. It sent a rush of joyful reassurance all through her. “Darling, I don’t care about anything while we’ve got each other.” “But it can’t go on, Elsie. He’s making your life miserable. Isn’t there any hope of a divorce, or even a separation?” “He says he never will.” Elsie spoke slowly. She was revolving a possibility, that she had often viewed before in her own mind. “Les, can’t we go away together? I don’t care what happens, or what people think of me. I’d face anything, with you.” Even as she spoke, she knew--and one side of her was relieved to know--that Morrison would negative the suggestion, as he had often done before. “Out of the question, darling girl. Think what I’m getting--two twenty-five a year and no particular prospect of a rise for years to come. And look at what you’ve been used to!” “Not before I married.” “Times were different then. It was before the war. Living has gone up five hundred per cent. since then, and it’ll be many a long year before it comes down again. Why, Elsie, we couldn’t even live!”