He poured her out a glass of wine, and found time to notice how pretty she was, with her slightly flushed cheeks and bright eyes.
"I am on a newspaper," he said, "the Daily Courier. I got on quite by chance, and they are going to keep me."
She looked at him with keen interest.
"How delightfully fortunate!" she exclaimed. "It is what you wanted all your life, isn't it? And the Ibex story?
"Will appear next month. I have lots of orders for others too. The first thing I wrote for the Courier was quite successful."
She looked at him wistfully. "Couldn't you send it to me?" she asked.
He took out pencil and paper.
"Of course. Give me your address."
She began, but stopped short with a little cry.
"Whatever am I doing!" she exclaimed. "Why, Douglas, you mustn't think of writing nor of sending anything to me. Joan might see it, and she would know your handwriting in a moment."