Tiffany, who was rather at a loose end after receiving the Willow Leaf, spent many an empty hour playing with Titania, sitting on the floor for her dolls’ drinking bouts, playing carpet bowls, pretending to be a bear who would hug her to death, and pulling hideous faces to amuse her. She was a courageous, tyrannical child. The bear could never growl loud enough nor hug fiercely enough to satisfy her, the faces had to be intimidating before she would be amused by them, Tiffany frowned till his brows ached while she sat smirking like a snowdrop. Her governess complained that he over­excited the child, who was hoyden enough already. But he flattered the governess and kept his entry to Titania’s nursery, and to her schoolroom. Even when she was going through her awkward age and people were finding her a nuisance and being disappointed in her, he still kept her as a pet; fished her out of scrapes, and shot snipe for her dinner.

Of course, she was not his only interest. The Willow Leaf had dispensed him from his vassalage to Tiphaine. He had enjoyed several bachelor friendships and several love affairs as well as improving his average at golf. The latest of his ladies was a stickler for traditions. Now it was the thirteenth of February and he still had not completed the valentine he ought to send her. He was sitting in the North Gallery, where he hoped to be undisturbed, and considering rhymes to ‘azure’ when he saw Titania steal in at the farther end of the gallery and come toward him. He signalled to her to be quiet. For once, she was in a biddable mood. She sat down and busied herself with her embroidery. He had decided on ‘embrasure‘ and was modelling a sentiment to include it when there was a sudden Crack! and a whirr, as though a fan had been flirted open. He looked up. Titania was overhead. Five times she flew down the whole length of the gallery and back again. She folded her wings and alighted beside him, as dexterously as though she had spent her whole life flying on errands. ’Titania!’ he exclaimed. ‘What ever will you do next? You know you mustn’t fly.’

‘Don’t tell on me,’ she said.

He could no more resist her than he could fly himself. For when he looked up and saw her swallow flight up and down the gallery, his old fascinating rapture at the act of flying exploded like a rocket. Crack! Whirr! He was in love with Titania.