With a snap Leah closed her lips, as he lumbered, red-faced, hearty, and essentially fleshy, into the room. The mere sight of his tangible commonplace made the woman thank her stars that she had not blundered into hysterical frankness. "Holloa, Lionel! Holloa, Leah! Sittin' in the twilight an' talkin' secrets--eh? Mind some light?" He clicked the ivory knob near the door, and the room sprang into vivid being. "Had a jolly day's skatin. Y' should ha' come, Leah. No end of a lark. Feel sick?" This polite question was asked because she shaded her eyes from the glare. "No; but I can't stand wild bulls charging into a room." "Might call it a china-shop," chuckled Jim, glancing disparagingly at the nicknackery. "Nerves slack, I'll bet. Fresh air an' exercise an' cheerful company is what you want, Leah." "I'm likely to get the last, with you," she rejoined witheringly, for the overpowering vitality of the man made her wince. "Well, Lionel here's--been no catch in th' way of fun, I expect. Seems to have given you the hump. Goin', old man? All right! I'll cheer her up. See you at dinner." The curate nodded and went out. Since Jim's plunge into the middle of their conversation he had not uttered a word, for the interruption had jarred on him, as on Lady Jim. Moreover, he departed with an intuitive feeling that the golden moment had passed. And this was truly the case. When she next saw him, Leah wondered why she had so nearly made a fool of herself. And indeed, she was already wondering while Jim, obviously embarrassed, discoursed in a breezy, blundering way, with an attempt at connubial fondness. "Poor old girl," he said, sitting opposite to her, looking fresh and handsome, and essentially manly. "'Awfully sorry you're chippy. If I'd known I'd ha' come back to keep you company." "Are the heavens falling?" asked Leah, listlessly. Jim, as usual, could not follow this recondite speech. "Don't know what you're talkin' about," he remarked good-humouredly, and bustling to the bell. "You're a peg too low, Leah. Tell you what: we'll have tea here, an' a talk, if you don't mind." His wife nodded, wondering if he was about to confess his possible Mormonism. She did not think so, as Jim never confessed anything, unless it was dragged piecemeal out of him. Her feelings at this moment did not lean towards cross-examination, so she let him ring the bell and order tea, without using her too-ready tongue. In fact, she unbent so far as to make use of him. "Get me a dose of sal volatile, Jim," she ordered. "There's a bottle on my dressing-table." "Poor old girl," said the sympathetic Jim, again, and stumbling into the next room with eager haste. Leah smiled to herself. This ready obedience argued a guilty conscience.