"Yes? Then you
might tell Grayson I'm here to luncheon--unless the family is
lunching out."
"Yes, sir," said the footman. "No, sir, they are lunching at home."
Pink sauntered into the library. He was not so easy as his manner
indicated. One never knew about Lily. Sometimes she was in a mood
when she seemed to think a man funny, and not to be taken seriously.
And when she was serious, which was the way he liked her--he rather
lacked humor--she was never serious about him or herself. It had
been religion once, he remembered. She had wanted to know if he
believed in the thirty-nine articles, and because he had seen them
in the back of the prayer-book, where they certainly would not be if
there was not authority for them, he had said he did.
"Well, I don't," said Lily. And there had been rather a bad
half-hour, because he had felt that he had to stick to his
thirty-nine guns, whatever they were. He had finished on a rather
desperate note of appeal.
"See here, Lily," he had said. "Why do you bother your head about
such things, anyhow?"
"Because I've got a head, and I want to use it."
"Life's too short."
"Eternity's pretty long.
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