That was the only sound he heard. She could feel his warm little body trying to snuggle into her, trying to wriggle loose of his swaddling cloth. Still, there certainly was something in the idea of a treaty. There was already a score or more of people there, some standing up and talking together, others seated in chairs ranged along the wall. Presently he began to weave a tale, sorry enough, with all the ancient claptraps and rusted platitudes. Each became frightfully aware of the other as a plastic energetic body, of the strong muscles of neck against cheek, of hands gripping shoulder-blade and waist. ‘Exactement. Upon leaning back, he commented, “You look so sad. To-morrow at twelve I'll be with you, Mr.
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