“Oh, no!” said Meriel. “Jim and I could easily get away for a few days now, but we prefer to add it on to our annual leave and have that in the good weather.”

I looked at Meriel. Her hair had lost some of its gloss—in fact her whole personality was lacking in its usual shine. I thought of Jim, who had just been dashing out to an evening meeting as I arrived. Jim was one of the “lean kine,” but to me, who had not seen him for several months, he looked too fine-drawn. I said as much to Meriel.

“Oh, do you think so? Of course, seeing him every day I can hardly notice it. He's been working too hard lately though—overtime, and that Secretaryship. Perhaps a break would be a good idea.”

Meriel is a sensible girl. She and Jim left last night for a short visit to Jim's parents. They'll come back refreshed, both of them. They'll have long, lazy days of do-as-you please in a home where breakfast in bed (real breakfast, not tea and toast) is a prerogative of guests; where, in winter, huge log fires are set and may be lit in early morning if one pleases; where the car is at one's service.

Jim will laze for a day or two, and then get his father out on the links for as much golf as the weather permits. Meriel will get up late, have long, comfy chats with her mother-in-law, read those books she has had by her for months. In the evenings there will be talk, with the party gathered round the fireside at home or in the home of an old friend.

Even if they stay for only a week, Meriel and Jim will come back keyed up, mentally and physically, for the rest of the winter.

Of course, they're exceptionally lucky in having such an ideal home to go to. But anyone who can manage a change of scene (and people) for even a short time in the middle of winter, should do so. Otherwise, there is the possibility of being so rundown at the end of the year that the annual holiday is enjoyed only towards its close.