They dined together at Prince's to the fierce discords of Jazz music. It suited her mood; it was primitive and reckless. Diners kept rising between courses and slipping out in pairs to where dancing was in progress. The whole world went in pairs tonight. And she had her man; no one could make her lonely for just this one night. It was exciting to her to notice how much more they seemed to belong to each other now that they were in public. He felt it also, for he showed his sense of pride and ownership in a hundred little ways. It was good to be owned after having been left so long discarded. As he faced her across the table, he had the air of believing that everybody was admiring her and envying him his luck. She was immensely grateful that he should think so. It was as though he could hear them saying, “How on earth did a one-armed fellow do it?” Had they asked him, he could only have told them, “The house was empty, so I entered.” Yes, and even he had not guessed how empty! But what had changed her? Knowing nothing about the locked door and how her afternoon had been spent, he was puzzled. All he knew was that the woman whom he had thought perfect, had revealed herself as more perfect. She had become radiantly beautiful in a way quite new and unexpected. Of the play to which they went she saw but little; all she realised was that it was merry--a fairy-tale of life. One does not notice much when the heart is swollen with gladness. People sang, and looked pretty, and fell in love. Everyone was paired and married before the curtain was rung down. Something, however, she did remember: two lilting lines which had been sung: And, while the sun is shining, Make hay, little girl, make hay. They kept repeating themselves inside her head. Unconsciously in the darkness as they were driving home, she started humming them. “What did you say?” he questioned. “I didn't say anything. It was just a snatch from a tune we heard.” “Was it? Won't you hum it again?” So in the intermittent gloom of the passing lights she tried; but for some reason, inexplicable to herself, it made her feel choky. She couldn't reach the end. Gathering her wrap closer about her, she drew the fur collar higher to hide the stupid tears which had forced their way into her eyes. “I believe you're crying!” he exclaimed with concern. “Do tell me what's the matter.” “I'm too happy,” she whispered brokenly. The taxi drew up against the pavement with a jerk. There was no knowing what he might say next to comfort her. She both yearned to learn and dreaded. Flight was the safer choice. Before he could assist her, she had jumped out. “Come tomorrow and I'll thank you properly. I can't now. And... I'm sorry for having been a baby.” Catching at her skirts, she fled up the steps and let herself into the darkened house.