"Shall we tell people?" asked the curate.
Eileen thought, and shook her head.
"No," she said; "nicer not. It will make a splendid secret."
"Just between us two, eh?" said the curate, kindling at the thought.
"Just between us two," agreed Eileen. And the curate kissed her very solemnly. A secret is a comfortable thing to lovers, especially when they are young and about to be lonely.
At this moment a leonine head, supported on a lumbering and ill-balanced body, was thrust in between them. It was Excalibur, taking sanctuary with the Church from the vengeance of the Law.
"We might tell Scally, I think," said Eileen.
"Rather!" assented the curate. "He introduced us."
So Eileen communicated the great news to Excalibur.
"You do approve, dear—don't you?" she said.