"You will have nothing of the kind."

I rose and walked to the window in some dudgeon. After considerable focussing, I managed to locate the environs of my collar in a dusty pane. While the work of reconstruction was proceeding:

"Once upon a time," said I, "there was a queen. She was very beautiful from the crown of her little head, which the dark hair kept always, to the soles of her shining feet. And people loved to look at her and hear the music of her laughing. Only, it was no good going on Thursday, because that was early-closing day in her realm, and she and The Mint and The Dogs' Cemetery, and all the other places of interest were closed. You weren't allowed to see the crown jewels, which she wore in her eyes..."

Outside a taxi slowed down and stopped. Cautiously I peered out of the window. George.

I turned to the girl. "Here he is," I said.

As I spoke, an idea came to me. Hurriedly I glanced round the studio.

Then:

"Quick," I said, pointing to a little recess, which was curtained off.

"You go in there. We'll punish him."

A smile, and she whipped behind the curtain.

"Are you all right?" I whispered.

"Yes."

"Put your hand out a second. Quick, la.s.s!" I spoke excitedly.

"What for?" she said, thrusting it between the curtains.

"Homage," said I, kissing the slight fingers.

The next moment George burst into the room. "Thank heaven," he said, as soon as he saw me.

"What d'you mean?" I said stiffly.

"I'm so thankful," he said with a sigh of relief. "I knew it was you.

I was a fool to worry. But, you know, I suddenly got an idea that I'd fixed Thursday for Margery Cicester."

"That would have been awful," I said bitterly.

"Yes," said George, "it would, wouldn't it?"

I could have sworn I heard smothered laughter in the recess.

"But, George," I said, "how did you know I liked waiting?"

George laughed and clapped me on the back.

"I forgot." he said. "I'm sorry, old man. But you see--"

"One hour and ten minutes," said I, looking at my watch. George took off his coat, and began to draw a blind over the sky-light.

"I was very late last night," he said.

I gasped.

"D'you mean to say you've only just got up?" I roared.

"Oh, I've had breakfast."

I picked up my hat and turned to the door.

"Where are you going?" said George.

"There are limits," I said over my shoulder. "If it had been Miss Cicester, you would have crawled about the room, muttering abject apologies and asking her to kick you. But as it's me--"

"No, I shouldn't. I should have said that my housekeeper'd been taken ill suddenly, or..."

"Go on," said I.

This was better.

"Or that the Tube had stuck, or something."

"Why not tell her the truth, and fling yourself--"

"You know what women are?"

"George, you surprise me. Would you deceive an innocent girl?"

"Women are so narrow-minded. They can't understand...Nice kid, though, this."

This was splendid. "You mean, Margery--er--What's-her-name?"

"Yes. She's taken rather a fancy to you--your picture, I mean."

I laughed deprecatingly. Then:

"What's she like?" I said carelessly. "To look at, I mean?"

"Like!" roared George. "What d'you mean?"

"Like," I replied coolly. "You know. Similar to."

"Well, she's like that, you fool!" said George heatedly, pointing to the picture.

"Ah, of course. Is she really?"

"Look here," said George. "If you can't--"

"Wait a bit," said I. "When was she due here? I mean to say, supposing you had fixed to-day for her to come?"

"Eleven o'clock. Why?"