When Posy entered the room, her parents were sitting snug behind the incised lacquer screen. The girl added a fresh log to the fire, and smiled as she looked at the big empty chair. She was wearing a very becoming pale blue dressing-gown. Her hair, like Susan’s, hung down her back in two thick pigtails tied with pale blue ribbon. Her bare feet were thrust into pale blue slippers. She might have been sixteen instead of eighteen, and about her there breathed a virginal air, deliriously fresh and fragrant. She smelled of lavender. She went to the speaking-tube, and whistled down it. When her signal was answered, she said joyously: "It’s all right, Jim. Father fast asleep and snoring! Come up! Take your shoes off! The fourth stair from the top creaks horribly. Skip that!" She hung up the tube, and spread her hands before the fire, warming them. Upon the third finger of her right hand sparkled a ring. Upon her charming face a smile sparkled also, as she listened for the step of her lover. James came in, carrying his slippers in his hand. He was dressed as usual in a well-cut blue serge suit. He closed the door noiselessly, and held out his arms. Posy flew into them, with a sigh of satisfaction, but when he hugged her too masterfully, she protested, blushing, slipping from his embrace with a low laugh. "You must promise to behave reasonably." "Reasonably? Don’t you like being kissed by me?" "Of course I—er—like it." "Awfully?" "If you sit in that chair, I’ll sit on the arm of it. Please! Be good!" He obeyed. She fussed over him, arranging the cushion behind his back, touching him almost furtively, but laughingly, evading his touches, obviously the elusive nymph, captivated but not yet captured. James turned to look at her, slipping his arm round her waist. "You are a sweet!" he said fervently. "Am I much prettier than Mabel Dredge?" "Rather! What made you mention her?" "Oh, nothing. But mother was saying only this morning that six months ago, when I was at school, she thought that Mabel Dredge and you might make a match of it." "What rubbish!" He spoke irritably, too irritably a finer ear might have decided. "I expect you flirted with her a teeny-weeny bit?" "As if any man with eyes in his head would look at Miss Dredge when you were about." "But I wasn’t about then." It was so evident that she was merely teasing him in the most innocent, girlish way, that he smiled and pressed her closer to him, whispering: "Don’t let’s jaw about Miss Dredge. I say, isn’t this cosy?" "Isn’t it? Fancy if father could see us now. Jim, dear, I simply adore the excitement of this—our meeting here in the sanctuary. By the way, are you as mad as daddy about things?" "Things?" "Things as opposed to persons. Could you fall down and worship figures?" "I could worship your figure."