“Oh, I’m so sorry—­” he began piteously.

“Never mind,” said Zora, helping him to pick up the pieces.  “A man who can kiss a woman’s hands like that is at liberty to clear the whole house of gimcrackery.”

“You are a very gracious lady.  I said so long ago,” replied Septimus.

“I think I’m a fool,” said Zora.

His face assumed a look of horror.  His goddess a fool?  She laughed gaily.

“You look as if you were about to remark, ’If any man had said that, the word would have been his last’!  But I am, really.  I thought there might be something between you and Emmy and that a little encouragement might help you.  Forgive me.  You see,” she went on, a trace of dewiness in her frank eyes, “I love Emmy dearly, and in a sort of way I love you, too.  And need I give any more explanation?”

It was an honorable amends, royally made.  Zora had a magnificent style in doing such things:  an indiscreet, venturesome, meddlesome princess she might be, if you will; somewhat unreserved, somewhat too conscious of her own Zoraesque sufficiency to possess the true womanly intuition and sympathy; but still a princess who had the grand manner in her scorn of trivialities.  Septimus’s hand shook a little as he fitted the tail to the hollow bit of china dog-end.  It was sweet to be loved, although it was bitter to be loved in a sort of way.  Even a man like Septimus Dix has his feelings.  He had to hide them.

“You make me very happy,” he said.  “Your caring so much for me as to wish me to marry your sister, I shall never forget it.  You see, I’ve never thought of her in that way.  I suppose I don’t think of women at all in that way,” he went on, with a certain splendid mendacity.  “It’s a case of cog-wheels instead of corpuscles.  I’m just a heathen bit of machinery, with my head full of diagrams.”

“You’re a tender-hearted baby,” said Zora.  “Give me those bits of dog.”

She took them from his hand and threw the mutilated body into the fire.

“See,” she said, “let us keep tokens.  I’ll keep the head and you the tail.  If ever you want me badly send me the tail, and I’ll come to you from any distance—­and if I want you I’ll send you the head.”

“I’ll come to you from the ends of the earth,” said Septimus.

So he went home a happy man, with his tail in his pocket.

* * * * *

The next morning, about eight o’clock, just as he was sinking into his first sleep, he was awakened through a sudden dream of battle by a series of revolver shots.  Wondering whether Wiggleswick had gone mad or was attempting an elaborate and painful mode of suicide, he leaped out of bed and rushed to the landing.

“What’s the matter?”

“Hello!  You’re up at last!” cried Clem Sypher, appearing at the bottom of the stairs, sprucely attired for the city, and wearing a flower in the buttonhole of his overcoat.  “I’ve had to break open the front door in order to get in at all, and then I tried shooting the bell for your valet.  Can I come up?”