“I think I’ve left my spectacles in the other room,” she said. She went out into the hall, leaving her son alone. And Herbert stood with his head raised, looking toward the door, eagerly, like a lover waiting for his bride. Then Clare came in. There was a smile about her lips, and she spoke cheerfully. “Well, you see I wasn’t long.” Herbert strode toward her and took her hands and raised them to his lips. “Clare, sweetheart! Is it true? Have you been called back to me?” Clare put her forehead down against his chest. “I never went very far away,” she said. Presently Herbert spoke again with great cheerfulness. “I say, Clare. It’s a funny thing!” “What’s a funny thing?” asked Clare, smiling at him. “Why, I was reading the advertisements in the paper to-night---” “Were _they_ funny?” asked Clare. “No,” said Herbert, “but I saw something that would just suit us.” He went over to a side-table and picked up the newspaper. Sitting on the edge of the table, he read out an advertisement. “Here it is.... ‘Chelsea--Semi-detached house, dining-room, drawing-room, three bedrooms, and a large nursery. Shed for bicycle or perambulator.’” Clare laughed happily. “Well, we might have both!” she said. Herbert dropped the paper, came over to his wife, and kissed her hands again. THE END End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Eighth Year, by Philip Gibbs