234 ANGEL PAVEMENT

"Don't be absurd. You're one of the very few people
here who are really alive-and look it* Let's change the
subject. I believe it's depressing you. Had any letters?"

"One from Mother, very dull, and one from a man
I've known off and on for years. He's coming up to
town to-morrow and wants me to spend the evening with
him, seeing the sights."

"A-ha! Is he a big brown man? Do you like him?"

"He's not bad," Miss Matfield replied indifferently.
"A bit feeble. He's from my part of the world and used
to hang about a lot at one time, but we haven't seen
much of one another for ages."

"I scent a roam-a-ance," cried Miss Ansdell. "His
sweetheart when a boy. And you have cared all these
yee-ars and I never knew—"

"Don't be an ape. You're making me feel sick/*

"But seriously, Mattie. Is he,going to ask you to
marry him, after the coffee has been served in a shaded
corner?"

Miss Matfield smiled, but thought this over. "He
might, you know," she admitted, staring into nothing,
her eyes growing sombre. "And if I thought I was
doomed to stay in this place much longer, spending my
evenings washing stockings and pattering round with
kettles, I'd many him next week. But I haven't the
least desire to marry him. He's quite decent, but—oh—
he's just rather feeble. Most young men seem rather
feeble, these days. I suppose most of the other sort were
killed in the war, I hate feeble men, don't you? I mean,
Hike a man to have plenty of character, a solid lump of
it, and I don't even care if it isn't a terribly good char-
acter so long as there's plenty of it. There's a man in my
office—"