“But why not? Why not?” exclaimed Laura. “Why must we⁠—terminate anything? Why not let things go on just as they are? We are quite happy as we are. There’s never been a time of my life when I’ve been happier than this last three or four months. I don’t want to change anything. Ah, here we are.”

The hansom drew up in front of the house. Aunt Wess’ and Page were already inside. The maid stood in the vestibule in the light that streamed from the half-open front door, an umbrella in her hand. And as Laura alighted, she heard Page’s voice calling from the front hall that the others had umbrellas, that the maid was not to wait.

The hansom splashed away, and Corthell and Laura mounted the steps of the house.

“Won’t you come in?” she said. “There is a fire in the library.”

But he said no, and for a few seconds they stood under the vestibule light, talking. Then Corthell, drawing off his right-hand glove, said: