"Yes, Jacqueline."

There was a faint and vague alarm in her eyes which made me glad for
her sake that she did not know.

"Now, Jacqueline," I said, "we shall have to begin to make ready for
our journey."

I had just remembered that the storage company which was to warehouse
my few belongings was to call that day. The van would probably be at
the house early in the morning, and it was essential that we should be
gone before it arrived.

Fortunately I had arranged to leave the door unlocked in case my
arrangements necessitated my early departure, and this was understood,
so that my absence would cause no surprise.

I showed Jacqueline the bathroom and drew the curtains. Then I went
into the kitchenette and made coffee on the gas range, and, since it
was too early for the arrival of my morning loaf, which was placed just
within the street door by the baker's boy every day, I made some toast
and buttered it.

I remember reflecting, with a relic of my old forced economy, how
fortunate it was that my pound of butter had just lasted until the
morning when I was to break up housekeeping.

When I took in the breakfast Jacqueline was waiting for me, looking
very dainty and charming. She was hungry, too, also a good sign.