"Don't they, fearfully?" I let this pass, as I was intent on other matters. "But about curing this fault of mine," I went on; "if one person can't always be in two places at once, two people can always be in one place at once, and that--as you remark--practically amounts to the same thing in the long run. That I could manage, I think--with, of course, a little help from you. And, strange to say, it was about this arrangement that I came to see you to-day." "I saw you came about something. You hadn't the loose-endy sort of a look you generally have." "What sort of a look had I?" Fay shrugged her shoulders airily. "Oh, a 'life-is-real, life-is-earnest,' and 'England-expects-every-man-this-day-to-do-his-duty' sort of look. But don't mind my mentioning it. It was rather a becoming look, as a matter of fact, and nothing for you to worry about." I took the little hand that was lying over the edge of the sofa. "Fay, do you know what I came to say?" I said softly. "Yes; but all the same, I'd rather you said it. I shan't take it as read." "It is so hard for me to put into words." "But so nice for me to hear the words into which it is put." "You vain child!" I whispered, stroking her curly hair. The lovely eyes lifted to mine were full of laughter. But there was something in them behind the laughter--that something which for weeks and weeks I had been trying so hard not to see. "If I'm vain, you are idle; so one is as bad as the other." There were a few seconds of silence, then Fay said: "Go on, I'm waiting." "Well, then, it is no good my telling you that I love you, for you know that already. And it is no good my attempting to tell you how much I love you, because I could never do that if I talked from now till doomsday." "Still, it wouldn't be a bad way of passing the time from now till then," Fay remarked. "Then we'll pass it so, my darling," I said, kneeling down beside her sofa and taking her in my arms, "and eternity shall be passed in the same way, after doomsday is over. And even then I shan't have half told you how much I love you." And I kissed her full on the lips, and for the first time in my life knew the ecstasy of human love. After a few minutes of blissful silence, Fay remarked: "If _I_ try to tell _you_ how much I love you, I shall have my work cut out for me too; and if I have to do it between now and doomsday it will take me all I know to get it done in the time." "Do you love me so very much, my little Fay?" "Frightfully much, ridiculously much, far, far more than you deserve." "But I am so old, sweetheart--so much too old for you. That is what is worrying me." Fay cuddled up to me, laughing contentedly. "I know. I have watched it worrying you for ages. I have seen you for months now trying to work out a sum that if you take away eighteen from forty-two nothing remains, and you couldn't get it right."