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goose, of course you weren’t ill, but—Tony, why don’t you speak to me when you see I’m so excited?”

“You haven’t changed a bit,” said Tony through his teeth in a sort of affectionate snarl. He was holding her firmly at half-arm’s length, as if he feared she might otherwise melt into air.

“You have—at least, no you haven’t. You’ve—turned rather nice-looking, Tony, though I suppose you aren’t really. And you’ve grown ’way, ’way up, and you’ve got some new scars besides that horrid one on your forehead. What’s that?”

She touched a seam on his brown cheek-bone.

“That was a broken bottle—in Africa. Not particularly creditable, and not very thrilling. I got it—on shore in a row. When did I write last? From the Ostara, wasn’t it? She was a wretched old tramp, but did I tell you that I was an officer? Yes, so please you. The second engineer died off Accra—fever—and I was promoted to an acting job. . . . Dream Lady dear, you’re exactly the same, even to the smell of violets, and—how’s the Professor?”

“He’s very well; he always is, I’m thankful to say, and he’ll be delighted to see you—and, oh, Tony, there’s Small Alison! You must see her as quickly as possible—she’s out walking just now. They will be in soon. Tony, how did you get here?”

“Steerage of the Mauretania—couldn’t get across any other way. No; I’m not specially hard up; but I mean I couldn’t get work at once and I was anxious to see you. It’s so long. I wasn’t really very long on the Ostara, but it was a variegated time—and before that there was London. Alison, I tell you that was great! I spent all my hard-earned capital in a month, and got more than its worth. I think I gave the impression of means. No one ever cared less. Do you think I was mad?”