Merrill, looking very attractive in her weeds, sat in Ben's room, interfering not a little with "The Beck and Call's" machinery. But that, of course, is the principal industry of all widows who call on business people.

"I call it very selfish and horrid of Alicia," she said. "Here she is, about to marry this rich old ironmonger——"

"Ironmaster," Ben corrected.

"Ironmaster, then. It's the same thing," said Merrill. "Here she is, anyway, about to be happy herself and have all her worries about money and about the boys removed for ever, and she has the cheek to say that I oughtn't even to see Roland—that's Captain Andrews, you know—for another three months. What do you think of that?"

"Well," said Ben, "I disagree. I think you should do exactly as you want to."

"And marry at once?"

"Certainly, if you want to. It's nobody's affair but yours and his. You are definitely engaged, aren't you?"

"Of course," said Merrill.

"And there's nothing to prevent you marrying except the possibility of public opinion disapproving?"

"No," said Merrill, "but people are very horrid."

"You mustn't mind people," said Ben. "Surely you know that? If we mind people life isn't worth living. The only thing to consider is your happiness. If you had been happy with Egbert you would not want to marry again so soon, or possibly not at all; but as you weren't happy with him I don't see any reason for you to wait."

"The whole question of time is absurd," said Merrill. "Who is it that fixes the interval? Why should a year be all right and eleven months all wrong? It is ridiculous—with life galloping on in the monstrous way it does."

"Well," said Ben, with a despairing glance at the letters waiting to be attended to, "the remedy is yours. Defy public opinion, and marry next week. Go and be registered; get a special licence; anything. But do it."

"I was wondering," said Merrill, "whether we might not marry now secretly and go abroad, and then come back and announce it. That would kill two birds with one stone: we should be married at once, and all those horrid cats, including darling Alicia, would be silenced."

"You never silence horrid cats," said Ben. "And I'm against anything secret. And I don't suppose Captain Andrews would care about it either."

"I think he would do as I wish," said Merrill, with a confident smile.

Only if he liked the wish himself, thought Ben, remembering the quiet decisiveness of the plus-four warrior; but all she said was that it was a pity that Merrill was such a coward.

"A coward!" exclaimed the widow. "How can you? You are as bad as Alicia. And you have been a great disappointment to me, too. I always thought of you as being so kind and comforting, and all you do is to look absent-minded and call me a coward."

"My dear," said Ben, "I have encouraged you in every possible way. I have even urged you to marry at once, which is what you say you want to do."

"I don't know that I do want it," said Merrill. "I don't want to do anything that would be unfair to Roland. I don't mind about myself, even though you think I do, but I should never forgive myself if through marrying too soon Roland lost anyone's respect. I am going now," she said sadly. "I am sorry to have troubled you."

"Good-bye, darling," said Ben. "You have never looked prettier. If you want someone really sympathetic to talk to, step in the shop downstairs and ask Mr. Harford to recommend you a good book. He's the one in tweeds."

"I was thinking of doing so," said Merrill. "I noticed him as I came in. Good-bye; I hope you'll be nicer next time."

"Good-bye, darling," said Ben. "You have never looked prettier. I think Roland the most enviable of men."

"Cat!" said Merrill, returning suddenly and flinging her arms round Ben's neck. "No, not cat—sweetest of hearts! But oh, I'm so miserable!"

She cried luxuriously for a minute and then jumped up smiling.

"I shall let Roland decide," she said.

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