'O I did not suppose you would muffle me in stone-coloured merino,' said Hazel,—'but I mean— You know what I mean!'— 'I should not like you as well in stone-coloured merino as in blue. Should a bird of paradise wear the plumage of a thrush or a quail?' Hazel looked soberly down at the dark silky waves that rippled along between her and the firelight. She said not a word. Dane knew well enough what she was thinking of, but chose to have the subject brought forward by herself if at all. He paused a minute. 'Would you like a trunk filled like Prim's?' Hazel trilled her fingers thoughtfully over the hand that lay near her, and then suddenly asked, 'Does that annoy you?' 'Not much,' said Rollo drily. She glanced up at him. 'Mr. Falkirk used to hate it.—And I forgot what my hand was about,' said Hazel; sedately folding it again with its small comrade. From which it as brought back, first to her husband's lips. 'Have we got to the bottom of that trunk yet?' 'There was another point,' said Hazel. '_Should_ I ever get to the bottom of it?' 'Never!' said Dane. 'If getting to the bottom of it implied using what you took out.' Hazel laughed a little. 'That was just how I felt, 'she said. 'But Olaf'—growing sober again—'after all you do not answer the real intrinsic question.' 'How would you state that, as it presents itself to you?' 'Whether you would fill it _so_,' she said, looking musingly at the fire. 'So,—not in precise colour, of course, nor exact pattern,—but in general quality—and plainness—and—' she paused for a word. Dane said quietly, 'Probably not.' Hazel went back into an unsatisfied muse. 'One would think,' she said with a half laugh, 'that I was an inquisitor, and that you were answering under torture!' 'Come,' said he, 'you shall not say that again. Question, and I will answer straight.' 'Perhaps my questions were not very straight,' said Hazel, still arguing into the fire. 'But I really did bring two empty trunks from home for myself—and in all these days—' It occurred to Rollo that he had heard and seen nothing of any purchases for herself. 'What in "all these days"?' The words look bare, but the gentle, fine intonation carried all of caressing tenderness that other people are wont to express more broadly. 'I have not known what to put in them.' 'How is that? You never found such a difficulty before?' 'No. Nor now. I could fill them both in one hour. But then if I did not want to take out what was there, I might as well have Prim's at once.' 'Why should you not wish to take the things out?' said Rollo, with an inward smile but perfect outward gravity. 'I made up my mind—last winter,' said Hazel rather low, 'that I should not always like what you like,—and that I would act as if I did.' The first part of his answer Rollo did not trust to words; but presently he told her, half laughing, that he thought she was wrong in both her positions.