Soon Philip grew in the habit of going in to tea with her every day, and so that his visits might not embarrass her he took in a cake or a pound of butter or some tea.  They started to call one another by their Christian names.  Feminine sympathy was new to him, and he delighted in someone who gave a willing ear to all his troubles.  The hours went quickly.  He did not hide his admiration for her.  She was a delightful companion.  He could not help comparing her with Mildred; and he contrasted with the one’s obstinate stupidity, which refused interest to everything she did not know, the other’s quick appreciation and ready intelligence.  His heart sank when he thought that he might have been tied for life to such a woman as Mildred.  One evening he told Norah the whole story of his love.  It was not one to give him much reason for self-esteem, and it was very pleasant to receive such charming sympathy.

“I think you’re well out of it,” she said, when he had finished.

She had a funny way at times of holding her head on one side like an Aberdeen puppy.  She was sitting in an upright chair, sewing, for she had no time to do nothing, and Philip had made himself comfortable at her feet.

“I can’t tell you how heartily thankful I am it’s all over,” he sighed.

“Poor thing, you must have had a rotten time,” she murmured, and by way of showing her sympathy put her hand on his shoulder.

He took it and kissed it, but she withdrew it quickly.

“Why did you do that?” she asked, with a blush.

“Have you any objection?”

She looked at him for a moment with twinkling eyes, and she smiled.

“No,” she said.

He got up on his knees and faced her.  She looked into his eyes steadily, and her large mouth trembled with a smile.

“Well?” she said.

“You know, you are a ripper.  I’m so grateful to you for being nice to me.  I like you so much.”

“Don’t be idiotic,” she said.

Philip took hold of her elbows and drew her towards him.  She made no resistance, but bent forward a little, and he kissed her red lips.

“Why did you do that?” she asked again.

“Because it’s comfortable.”

She did not answer, but a tender look came into her eyes, and she passed her hand softly over his hair.

“You know, it’s awfully silly of you to behave like this.  We were such good friends.  It would be so jolly to leave it at that.”

“If you really want to appeal to my better nature,” replied Philip, “you’ll do well not to stroke my cheek while you’re doing it.”

She gave a little chuckle, but she did not stop.

“It’s very wrong of me, isn’t it?” she said.

Philip, surprised and a little amused, looked into her eyes, and as he looked he saw them soften and grow liquid, and there was an expression in them that enchanted him.  His heart was suddenly stirred, and tears came to his eyes.