Later in the morning he asked Jacques, the news editor, if he believed in long engagements. He asked this casually as one who was seeking information for business purposes. “No,” said Jacques decisively, “I don’t. I believe after a man has been two or three years on a newspaper he gets stale, and ought to be fired.” Tab had not the moral courage to explain the kind of engagement he meant. That day the weather broke. The rain shot down from low-hanging clouds, the temperature fell twelve degrees. Nevertheless, he thought longingly of the garden of Stone Cottage. It would be snug under the trees, snugger still in that long, low-ceilinged sitting-room of hers. Tab heaved a deep sigh and strolled off to fulfil his promise to Rex. Rex was full of his new scheme, and dragged his visitor into the bedroom where blue prints and maps and plans seemed to cover every available surface. “I’m going to build a veritable mansion of the skies,” he said, “I have chosen the site. It is just this side of where Ursula Ardfern has her cottage. The only rising ground in the country.” “I know the only hill in that part of the world,” said Tab with sudden interest, “but unfortunately you have been forestalled, Rex.” “You mean by Yeh Ling,” said the other carelessly, “I’ll buy him off. After all, it is only a freak on his part to put up a house there.” Tab shook his head. “You will have some difficulty in persuading him to sell,” he said quietly, “I happen to know that he is almost as keen on his house as you are on yours.” “Stuff,” laughed Rex. “You seem to forget that I am made of money!” Tab shook his head. “I didn’t forget that,” he said, “but I repeat I know Yeh Ling.” Rex scratched his head irritably. “It will be a shame if I can’t get it,” he said. “Could you persuade him--I’ve rather set my heart on that site. I saw it once in the old days, long before I ever knew that Ursula Ardfern lived near by and I said to myself: ‘One of these days I’ll build a house on that hill.’ How is my adored one, by-the-way?” The opportunity which Tab had wanted. “Your adored one is my adored one,” he said quietly. “I am going to marry Ursula Ardfern.” Rex fell into the nearest chair, looking at him with eyes and mouth wide open. “You lucky dog!” he said at last, and then he came to his feet with his hand outflung. “I go away on a holiday and you steal my beloved,” he said, wringing Tab’s hand. “No, I am not feeling at all bad about it--you are a lucky man. We must have a bottle on this.” Tab was relieved, to an extent greater than he had anticipated. He had rather dreaded telling the love-sick youth that the object of his passion had agreed to bestow herself upon the best friend of the man who was responsible for their meeting.