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“In character?”

Paul smiled. “I call it strikingly practical—no nonsense; she wouldn’t let me, and that settled it.”

“Of course she had her own way—at a ball,” remarked the Doctor dryly.

“Oh, of course! of course! She certainly would support a coronet first-rate; it would not be the coronet’s part to support her.”

“No doubt you are right, Paul. I was only asking some test questions,” and the Doctor subsided, as if he had more to say but would not venture.

“Test questions? Whom were you testing?” asked Paul.

“Both of you,” said the Doctor.

“Where did you first meet her?” asked Paul, still examining the periodical.

“Where?—we didn’t meet! I heard her voice through the crack of a door.”

“H’m!” And Paul put down his book.

“It was while I was convalescent at the hospital after that bicycle accident. She was a volunteer nurse, and a remarkably good one among not a few devoted women. You were right about her being practical and spirituelle, and so was I about her being spiritual.”

Paul took up a cigarette. A cloud of smoke enveloped his head, his facial expression hid behind the cloud. The Doctor continued: