it slipped out. Coral. She liked it. He denied himself all luxuries and most necessities and bought her a strand of beads of that name, presenting them to her stammeringly, clumsily, tenderly. Tender pink and cream, they were, like her cheeks, he thought.

“Oh, Ray, for me! How darling! You naughty boy!� But I’d rather have had those clear white ones, without any colouring. They’re more stylish. Do you mind?”

When he told Laura Calhoun she said, “I hope you’ll be very happy. She’s a lucky girl. Tell me about her, will you?”

Would he! His home girl!

When he had finished she said, quietly, “Oh, yes.”

And so Raymond and Cora were