“And what Fluffy wants is the right to fulfill herself,” she interrupted, bringing the argument back to the point from which it started. “My beautiful mother----” There she stopped. Their glances met and dropped. He hadn’t thought of her mother. Everything that he had been saying had been an accusation. “My beautiful mother----” She had said it without anger, as though gently reminding him of the reason for her defense. He felt ashamed; in uttering things that were sacred he had been guilty of brutality. Would the shadow of Vashti always lie between them when he spoke to her of love? She came to the rescue. “You’ll think I haven’t any ideals; but I have.” She laughed softly. “You men are like boys who make cages. Some one’s told you that if you can put salt on a bird’s tail, you can catch it. Away you go with your cages and the first bird you see, you start saying pretty things to it and trying to creep nearer. It hops away and away through the bushes and you follow, still calling it nice names. Presently it spreads its wings and then, because you can’t reach it, you throw stones at it That’s what Horace is doing to poor little Fluffy. He never ought to have made his cage; if he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have got angry.--But we’ve not struck a happy subject, Meester Deek. Tell me, did you miss me much?” It took one and a half times round the Park to tell her. That she cared to listen was a proof to him that she wasn’t quite as interested in preserving her freedom as she pretended. As he described his anxiety in waiting for her letters, she made her eyes wide and sympathetic. Once or twice she let her hands flutter out to touch him. He didn’t touch hers; it was so important to hide from her how much he was in earnest. He mustn’t do a thing that would startle her. As darkness fell and her face grew indistinct, he found that he had less difficulty in talking. Horsemen had disappeared. The procession of cars and carriages was gone. They jingled through a No-Man’s-Land of whispering leaves and shadows; lamps buoyed their passage like low-hanging stars. Behind trees on a knoll, lights flashed. She pushed up the trap and spoke to the driver: “Well stop here for dinner.” She turned to Teddy: “Shall we? It’s McGown’s.” He helped her out As they passed up the steps to the bungalow, he took her arm and felt its shy answering pressure. In the hall she drew away from him. “Where are you going? Don’t go.” “Only for a minute. Please, Meester Deek, I want to make myself beautiful for you.” “But I can’t spare a minute of you. I’ve lost you for so long.” “Only one little minute,” she pleaded, “but if you don’t want me to be beautiful----”