She went blithely about her household tasks, and sang and cooed deliciously to the child lying in its bassinette.  Every now and then she looked at the clock over the mantelpiece, wondering why Septimus had not come.  Only in the depths of her heart—­depths which humans in their every-day life dare not sound too frequently—­did she confess how foolishly she longed for him.  He was late.  With Emmy, Septimus never broke an appointment.  To insure his being at a certain place at a certain time to meet her he took the most ingenious and complicated precautions.  Before now he had dressed overnight and gone to sleep in his clothes so as to be ready when the servant called him in the morning.  Emmy, knowing this, after the way of women began to grow anxious.  When, therefore, she opened the flat door to him she upbraided him with considerable tenderness.

“It was Clem Sypher,” he explained, taking off his overcoat.  “He sent for me.  He wanted me badly.  Why, I don’t know.  At least I do half know, but the other half I don’t.  He’s a magnificent fellow.”

A little later, after Septimus had inspected her morning’s work in the flat, and the night’s progress in the boy’s tooth, and the pretty new blouse which she had put on in his honor, and the rose in her bosom taken from the bunch he had sent to greet her arrival in the flat the night before, and after he had heard of the valorous adventure of Madame Bolivard and of a message from Hegisippe Cruchot which she had forgotten to deliver overnight, and of an announcement from Zora to the effect that she would call at Ecclefechan Mansions soon after lunch, and of many things of infinite importance, Emmy asked him what Clem Sypher had been doing, and wherein lay the particular magnificence of character to which Septimus had alluded.

“He’s awfully splendid,” said Septimus.  “He has given up a fortune for the sake of an idea.  He also gave me an umbrella and his blessing.  Emmy”—­he looked at her in sudden alarm—­“did I bring an umbrella with me?”

“You did, dear, and you put it in the stand; but what you’ve done with the blessing, I don’t know.”

“I’ve got it in my heart,” said he.  “He’s a tremendous chap.”

Emmy’s curiosity was excited.  She sat on the fender seat and bent forward, her hands on her knees, in a pretty girlish attitude and fixed her forget-me-not eyes on him.

“Tell me all about it.”

He obeyed and expounded Sypher’s quixotism in his roundabout fashion.  He concluded by showing her how it had been done for Zora’s sake.

Emmy made a little gesture of impatience.

“Zora!” she exclaimed jealously.  “It’s always Zora.  To see how you men go on, one would think there was no other woman in the world.  Every one does crazy things for her, and she looks on calmly and never does a hand’s turn for anybody.  Clem Sypher’s a jolly sight too good for her.”

Septimus looked pained at the disparagement of his goddess.  Emmy sprang to her feet and put her finger-tips on his shoulders.