There, with one devastating sweep of his arm, he rendered the mantelpiece a solitude. Everything went with one glorious crash--pipes, tobacco-jar, cigarettes, Bulgarian Atrocities--all. Last, but not least, with a heavy thud, went the Meldrum Carburettor. The day of Things was over.

Then, very reverently, in the very centre of the desert that he had created for her, he planted a portrait--the portrait of a Lady, in a large, round, shining, silver frame.

THE END