"Pooh! my dear little Psyche. You have forgotten the kind of man that our Mort is. When he says he'll do a thing, he does it--if he's alive. And in that very letter of yours, which you make such a mystery about, but which I know perfectly well has nothing in it more than you read to me--he says in that very letter that only Death would stand in the way of his getting here to-night. And since he's a man in perfect health and in the prime of life, I don't see what doubt there can be that he'll keep his word. Only I do wish he'd told us the very hour, so that we mightn't have had this suspense to bother us." "Do you suppose we shall recognise his face when he comes?" asked Psyche, after a little pause. "Recognise him? Of course we shall!" returned Eros, positively, as became his masculine superiority. "He'll be considerably changed, to be sure; very likely he'll have a big black beard, and there'll be a few lines across his forehead and round his eyes; but you mustn't mind that. That sort of thing is bound to come on a man as he grows old. I'm beginning to find that out myself; and Mort--why he's nearly forty by this time!" "How very wise he will be!" murmured Psyche, thoughtfully. "He was the wisest person in the world before he went away; we shall be almost afraid of him now." "Well, as to that," said Eros, rubbing his downy upper lip and smiling, "as to that, my dear Psyche, you must speak for yourself. Undoubtedly Mort, the dear old fellow, has an immense deal of information, and plenty of good sense to back it--which is more than always happens, I can assure you. But when a man reaches his majority, and is on the point of becoming a family man into the bargain--give me another, dear----what was I going to say? Oh, well, I don't think _I_ shall be much afraid of him, or of anybody else, that's all." "Eros," whispered Psyche, feeling his strong young arm round her, and his hand on hers, "should you be willing to have him take us back with him to his Paradise, as he speaks of doing in the letter?" "Well, my dear, that must depend a great deal upon circumstances. I shall talk with Mort, and see what he has to say about his place. We mustn't forget that we're very well situated as we are, and ought not to move unless we're certain of bettering ourselves. The sort of society he speaks of might not suit us, you know; we're not missionaries, and don't care about barbarians as such. Mort, wise as he is, hasn't much practical sense in some ways; not so much as--some men I know. He's all for the loftiest and most ideal thing possible, without reflecting whether or not it's inconvenient or uncomfortable too. In short, unless his Paradise turns out to be a finer place than I think it will, I shall feel inclined to keep hold on what we have. Besides, Psyche, any place that you are in will be Paradise to me."