The hall clock at his lodgings announced the hour as close on five, and he mentally noted that the timepiece was inaccurate--three and a half minutes behind Greenwich. As usual, the hall was untenanted, with no servant to answer questions. He searched the dark recesses of a dirty letter-rack, on the chance that he might find a telegram from his wife waiting for him. Then he went gaily up the interminable staircase, making nothing now of its five flights, enjoying their steepness as productive of agreeable exercise. "Hulloa!" he muttered. "What's this?" A woman's hat and parasol were lying on a chair, and there was a valise on the floor by the chest of drawers. Turning, he gave a cry of delight. Mavis was stretched on the bed, fast asleep. She woke at the sound of his voice, scrambled down, and flung herself into his arms. "Will, oh, Will. My dearest Will! "My darling--my little sweetheart. But how have you come to me--have you flown?" "Don't be silly." He was devouring her face with his kisses, straining her to his breast in a paroxysm of pleasure, almost suffocating himself and her in the ardor of the embrace, and jerking out his words as though they were gasps for breath. "When did you get my wire? Why, it's impossible. I on'y wired two-forty-three. Is it witchcraft or just a dream?" "Did you wire? I never got it. I was so anxious that I couldn't stay there any longer without news. So I just packed and came. Will--be sensible. Tell me everything." "Best of news! Reinstated!" He bellowed the glad tidings over her head. She was all warm and palpitating in his arms, her dear body so delicate and fragile and yet so round and firm, her dear face soft and smooth, with lips that trembled and smelled like garden flowers. "Did you come up by the nine o'clock train? How long have you been waiting here?" "Oh, don't bother about me. I'm nothing. It's you I want to hear about." Then they sat side by side on the narrow little bed, he with his arm firmly clasped round her waist, and she nestling against him with her face hidden on his breast. "Mav, my bird, I can't never leave you again. I've bin just a lost dog without you. Did you start before you got my Sunday letter?" "Yes." "Every day I wrote--didn't I?--just like the old time. But I've a bone to pick with you, young lady. What d'ye mean by not writing to me more regular? Not even so much as a post-card these last three days!" "Will--I, I couldn't. I was too anxious while it all remained in suspense." "Yes, but you might have sent me a card. I told you cards would satisfy me. I was thinking of you off and on all yesterday. I can tell you it was just about the longest day of my life. Did you and Auntie go to church?" "No. Oh, don't ask questions about me--when I'm dying for a full account of it." He asked no more questions. After stooping to kiss the fragrant coil of hair above her forehead, he burst out into his joyous tale of triumph.