The Renshaw incident was closed, locked up as it were in her heart by the little snap of the “Yes, Jimmie.” One or two other letters were discussed gaily. The last to be opened was a note from Mrs. Deering. “Come to lunch on Sunday and bring Aline. I am asking your friend Norma Hardacre.” Aline clapped her hands. She had been longing to see that beautiful Miss Hardacre again. Of course Jimmie would go? He smiled. “Another unconscious sitting for the portrait,” he said. His glance wandered to a strainer that stood with its face to the wall, at a further end of the room, and he became absent-minded. Lately he had been dreaming a boy's shadowy dreams, too sweet as yet for him to seek to give them form in his waking hours. A warm touch on his hand brought him back to diurnal things. It was the coffee-pot held by Aline. “I have asked you twice if you would have more coffee,” she laughed. “I suppose I'm the happiest being in existence,” he said irrelevantly. Aline poured out the coffee. “You have n't got much to make you happy, poor dear!” she remarked, when the operation was concluded. His retort was checked by a violent peal at the front door-bell and a thundering knock. “That's Morland,” cried Jimmie. “He is like the day of doom--always heralds his approach by an earthquake.” Morland it was, in riding tweeds, a whip in his hand. He pointed an upbraiding finger at the half-eaten breakfast. The sloth of these painters! Aline flew to the loved one's protection. Jimmie had not gone to bed till four. The poor dear had to sleep. “I did n't get to bed till four, either,” said Morland, with the healthy, sport-loving man's contempt for people who require sleep, “but I was up at eight and was riding in the Park at nine. Then I thought I'd come up here. I've got some news for you.” Aline escaped. Morland's air of health and prosperity overpowered her. She did not dare whisper detraction of him to Jimmie, in whose eyes he was incomparable, but to Tony Merewether she had made known her wish that he did not look always so provokingly clean, so eternally satisfied with himself. All the colour of his mind had gone into his face, was her uncharitable epigram. Aline, it will be observed, saw no advantage in a tongue perpetually tipped with honey. “What is your news?” asked Jimmie, as soon as they were alone. “I have done it at last,” said Morland. “What?” “Proposed. I'm engaged. I'm going to be married.” Jimmie's honest face beamed pleasure. He wrung Morland's hand. The best news he had heard for a long time. When had he taken the plunge into the pool of happiness? “Last night.” “And you have come straight to tell me? It is like you. I am touched, it is good to know you carry me in your heart like that.” Morland laughed. “My dear old Jimmie--” “I am so glad. I never suspected anything of the kind. Well, she's an amazingly lucky young woman whoever she is. When can I have a timid peep at the divinity?”