She proved to be quite delighted with it. “Oh, I’m so glad--I _hoped_ I’d strike a ‘feud’! That rounds it off, and spices it up, and, for the heartbreak with which I take leave of you, just neatly completes the fracture!” Her reference to her going seemed suddenly, on this, to bring her back to a sense of proportion and propriety, and she glanced about once more for some wrap or reticule. This, in turn, however, was another recall. “Must I really wait--to go up?” He had watched her movement, had changed colour, had shifted his place, had tossed away, plainly unwitting, a cigarette but half smoked; and now he stood in her path to the staircase as if, still unsatisfied, he abruptly sought a way to turn the tables. “Only till you tell me this: if you absolutely meant, awhile ago, that this old thing is so precious.” She met his doubt with amazement and his density with compassion. “Do you literally need I should _say_ it? Can you stand here and not feel it?” If he had the misfortune of bandaged eyes, she could at least rejoice in her own vision, which grew intenser with her having to speak for it. She spoke as with a new rush of her impression. “It’s a place to love----” Yet to say the whole thing was not easy. “To love----?” he impatiently insisted. “Well, as you’d love a person!” If that was saying the whole thing, saying the whole thing could only be to go. A sound from the “party up” came down at that moment, and she took it so clearly as a call that, for a sign of separation, she passed straight to the stairs. “Good-bye!” The young man let her reach the foot, but then, though the greatest width of the hall now divided them, spoke, anxiously and nervously, as if the point she had just made brought them still more together. “I think I ‘feel’ it, you know; but it’s simply you--your presence, as I may say, and the remarkable way you put it--that make me. I’m afraid that in your absence----” He struck a match to smoke again. It gave her time apparently to make out something to pause for. “In my absence?” He lit his cigarette. “I may come back----” “Come back?” she took him almost sharply up. “I should like to see you _not_!” He smoked a moment. “I mean to my old idea----” She had quite turned round on him now. “Your old idea----?” He faced her over the width still between them. “Well--that one _could_ give it up.” Her stare, at this, fairly filled the space. “Give up Covering? How in the world--or why?” “Because I can’t afford to keep it.” It brought her straight back, but only half-way: she pulled up short as at a flash. “Can’t you let it?” Again he smoked before answering. “Let it to _you_?” She gave a laugh, and her laugh brought her nearer. “I’d take it in a minute!”