Still, Marjorie was not entirely happy. As already stated, any form of outdoor occupation was, in her view, play; and the present was essentially a time for work. She belonged to that zealous breed which is never really contented unless it is uncomfortable—to whom congenial occupation is merely idleness under another name. She enjoyed her present employment so much that she felt ashamed: she felt that she was not pulling her weight in the war. Probably a short conversation with a sensible person would have cured her of these illusions; but Marjorie had no one with whom to converse. She might have confided in her employer; but she argued, with some reason, that he would merely make an apposite and caustic reference to the gentleman who is reputed to have painted himself black all over in order to play Othello. It did not occur to her to mention the matter to Roy in a letter. Roy, for the present, belonged to his country, and was not to be diverted from his duty by domestic or personal trifles. What Marjorie needed and longed for at this time was a confidant. If we desire a thing urgently enough we usually get it. Sometimes we get more than we bargain for. One day Lord Eskerley came down his front-door steps arm-in-arm with an officer in uniform. His lordship’s _chauffeuse_, who prided herself upon her soldierly restraint, did not look round from her wheel as the pair entered the car, but she heard her employer say: "You can drop me at the office, Eric, and the car will take you on to the club." Eric Bethune’s voice replied that this arrangement would suit its owner top-hole. When Lord Eskerley alighted at Whitehall Gardens he turned and addressed Marjorie. "Habakkuk," he announced, "inside the car I have left a D.S.O. on a fortnight’s leave. Please deposit him at the Army and Navy Club in Pall Mall. He is a Scotsman, so there will be no gratuities." "Very good, my lord," replied Marjorie, looking rigidly to her front. She and the old gentleman made quite a speciality of these solemn little pleasantries. The portals of the Ministry had hardly closed upon the Minister when his guest emerged from within the interior of the car and climbed into the front seat beside Marjorie. "May I come and sit here?" asked Eric, shaking hands. "I recognised your back view through the front window-glass." "It’s against regulations," replied Marjorie, smiling, "but I can’t disobey a colonel. Besides, I want to hear all about the Western Front. How are the Royal Covenanters?" "I am commanding the Second Battalion now," replied Eric. "I have been with them since October." "Yes, I know," said Marjorie thoughtlessly. "How did you know?" asked Eric, not altogether displeased. Marjorie, carefully negotiating the cross-currents of Trafalgar Square, bit her lip. She was beginning to give herself away already. But she replied, looking steadily before her: "I get letters sometimes."