“Is that a kind of way of reminding me that I ought to have called? I’ve been awfully busy.” “How’s Agatha? Is she still at Brighton?” “Yes. She’s much better and beginning to enjoy herself. What have you been doing?” “Just nothing.” “I can’t believe that of you. You’d go crazy if you hadn’t something to do.” “Why, I stopped weeks with you and didn’t do a single thing the whole time.” “That’s true,” he admitted, laughing; “but you always manage to give the impression of being busy. Like one of my men, whom I had to fire out the other day—he was always awfully busy and didn’t get any work done.” “I’ve no work to do.” West felt curiously constrained; not that anything in her tone or manner jarred upon him; she was frankly kind as she always was to him. He did not feel that he had anything to say to her and small talk failed him. They walked on for some little distance without speaking. “My brother’s engaged to be married,” she said suddenly. “Really! That’s good. I must write and congratulate him. But it’ll be a nuisance for you, won’t it? I suppose it will be the customary ‘two’s company.’” “I shan’t try to make it anything else. It wouldn’t be fair to her.” “Fair to her! That’s like you; that’s you all over. I’d bet anything you haven’t bothered to think about yourself. What a show up you good women make of us men!” “Don’t say things like that about me,” she answered, so fiercely that he stared at her astonished, “_don’t_. It’s so utterly untrue. What on earth does a man ever know about a woman? I’m hateful to myself, and I’d be hateful to you if you knew me.” “I’m sorry—something’s wrong and I’ve touched you on the raw; I’m sorry. Not that I believe you a bit you’re worrying about something that wouldn’t give me a twinge. I—suppose I can’t help you any way?” “You—no, no, thanks.” She clenched her fingers tightly inside her muff. “No one can help me and I can’t help myself.” “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “You’re such a good sort, I hate to see you suffering; I’m afraid it’s something pretty bad.” “I’d rather not talk about myself. Tell me about yourself. Don’t you feel lonesome up here without Agatha?” “Oh, we’re settling down into conventional married life. Quite pleased to be together, but not inconsolable when we’re apart. Aggy’s growing up and finding other amusements in life besides honeymooning.” “And you?” she asked, not looking at him, but fixing her gaze straight ahead. “I? Didn’t I tell you I’m very busy?” “And that’s all you care about?” “I’m beginning to think so. It’s really the only game worth playing. Now, here we are at Hyde Park corner. Shall I take a turn back with you and be late at the office? Or be a good boy, remember that work’s first, pleasure second?” “Be a good boy,” she replied, holding out her hand.