window there was a rug; otherwise the room was carpetless and parquetted, and devoid of furniture and dust. Dark-green curtains hung by the window, dark-green blinds could be drawn across the window. The bathroom beyond held the hopeless but necessary accessories of dressing. Her maid was waiting for her—Parkinson by name—and it was not Dorothy who came to be dressed, but Puck.
' Parkinson,' she said, ' once upon a time there was a very fascinating woman called X.'
' Lor'm!' said Parkinson.
' Quite so. And there was a very fascinating young man called Y. He wanted to marry her, and wrote to say so. But meantime another man called Z also wanted to—to marry her. So she said "Yes," because he gave her a great deal of money. But she kept Y's proposal—I don't know why, except because it was so funny. And so now I suppose she is Mrs. Z. That's all.'
' Lor'm!' said Parkinson. ' Will you wear your shiffong and lace dress?'
' Yes, shiffong. Parkinson, supposing I suddenly burst into tears, what would you think?'
' I should think you wasn't quite well'm.'
' Quite right; also there isn't time.'
Mrs. Emsworth had not been gone more than ten minutes or so before Bilton was shown up. He appeared to be in a particularly well-satisfied humour this morning, and as he moved about the room, noting with his quick eye the stamp of femininity which Mrs. Emsworth had already impressed into the garnishing of the place, he whistled softly to himself. In his hand he carried a small jewel-case with her initials in gold upon the top. As always, in the relaxed mood the true man came to the surface; for a man is most truly himself, not at great moments of emergency or when a sudden call is made on him, but when his ambitions for
