"My dear," she cried, catching his arm, "forgive me. The Blue Bird's not gone, Derek--it's still there. Don't frighten it--oh! don't. We won't snatch at it, won't even think of making any plans for caging it--we'll just assume it's going to stop. . . . I believe it will then. . . . And afterwards--why what does afterwards matter? Let's be happy while we may, and--perhaps, who knows--we will cheat those grinning imps after all. . . ." "Right," cried Vane, catching her hands, "right, right, right. What shall we do, my dear, to celebrate the presence of our blue visitor? . . ." For a moment she thought, and then her eyes lit up. "You're still on leave, aren't you?" "Even so, lady." "Then to-morrow we will take a car. . . ." "My car," interrupted Vane. "And I've got ten gallons of petrol." "Glorious. We'll take your car, and will start ever so early, and go to the river. Sonning, I think--to that ripping pub where the roses are. And then we'll go on the river for the whole day, and take Binks, and an invisible cage for the Blue Bird. . . . We'll take our food, and a bone for Binks and the squeaky dog. Then in the evening we'll have dinner at the White Hart, and Binks shall have a napkin and sit up at table. And then after dinner we'll come home. My dear, but it's going to be Heaven." She was in his arms and her eyes were shining like stars. "There's only one rule. All through the whole day--no one, not even Binks--is allowed to think about the day after." Vane regarded her with mock gravity. "Not even if we're arrested for joy riding?" he demanded. "But the mascot will prevent that, silly boy," she cried. "Why would we be taking that cage for otherwise?" "I see," said Vane. "It's the most idyllic picture I've ever even thought of. There's only one thing. I feel I must speak about it and get it over." He looked so serious that for a moment her face clouded. "Do not forget--I entreat of you, do not forget--your meat coupon." And then with the laughter that civilisation has decreed shall not be heard often, save on the lips of children, a man and a girl forgot everything save themselves. The world of men and matters rolled on and passed them by, and maybe a year of Hell is fair exchange for that brief space. . . . CHAPTER XIII The next morning dawned propitious, and Vane, as he drove his two-seater through the park to Ashley Gardens, sang to himself under his breath. He resolutely shut his eyes to the hurrying streams of khaki and blue and black passing in and out of huts and Government buildings. They simply did not exist; they were an hallucination, and if persisted in might frighten the mascot. Joan was waiting for him when he drove up at half-past nine, with Binks sitting importantly on the seat beside him.