Rita, in dishabille, lay across the foot of the bed nibbling bonbons and reading the evening paper.
They had dined in their living room, a chafing dish aiding.

Afterward Valerie went over her weekly accounts and had now taken up her regular mending; and there she sat, sewing away, and singing in her clear, young voice, the old madrigal: "_Let us dry the starting tear For the hours are surely fleeting And the sad sundown is near.
All must sip the cup of sorrow, I to-day, and thou to-morrow! This the end of every song, Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Yet until the shadows fall Over one and over all, Sing a merry madrigal!_" Rita, nibbling a chocolate, glanced up: "That's a gay little creed," she observed.
"Of course.

It's the _only_ creed." Rita shrugged and Valerie went on blithely singing and sewing.
"How long has that young man of yours been away ?" inquired Rita, looking up again.
"Thirteen days." "Oh.

Are you sure it isn't fourteen ?" "Perfectly." Then the sarcasm struck her, and she looked around at Rita and laughed: "Of course I count the days," she said, conscious of the soft colour mounting to her cheeks.
Rita sat up and, tucking a pillow under her shoulders, leaned back against the foot-board of the bed, kicking the newspaper to the floor.
"Do you know," she said, "that you have come pretty close to falling in love with Kelly Neville ?" Valerie's lips trembled on the edge of a smile as she bent lower over her sewing, but she made no reply.
"I should say," continued Rita, "that it was about time for you to pick up your skirts and run for it." Still Valerie sewed on in silence.
"Valerie!" "What ?" "For goodness' sake, say something!" "What do you want me to say, dear ?" asked the girl, laughing.
"That you are _not_ in danger of making a silly ninny of yourself over Kelly Neville." "Oh, I'll say that very cheerfully--" "Valerie!" The girl looked at her, calmly amused.

Then she said: "I might as well tell you.