"Wobbles" had been the first name which Stella Croyle had invented for Harry Luttrell, though by what devious process she had lighted upon it, psychology could not have discovered.

"Wub" was the nickname within the nickname, the cherished sign that the two of them lived apart in a little close-hedged garden of their own.

Luttrell's eyes were upon her as she spoke it.

And she spoke it with a curious little wistful pursing of soft lips so that it came to him winged with the memory of all her kisses.
"Oh, Wub, must you leave me ?" she pleaded in a breaking whisper.

"What will be left to me if you do ?" Luttrell dropped his forehead in his hands.