--although I think I
could get to like you very much in one way, however different things
were, I don't believe I could ever fall in love with you. But if you
only mean friends, just real pals, as we say in my half of the world, I
am there, always supposing that the friendship of such an entirely
improper young person as I am doesn't do you any harm."

"Harm, nonsense!" he said. "Why should it? Well, that's a bargain, and
now perhaps you won't object to tell me where you live."

"Oh, no, not now," she said. "I live at 15, Melville Gardens, Brook
Green, with a very nice girl that you may also be friends with if you're
good."

"Brook Green! Why, that's off the Hammersmith Road. We, that is to say
dad and myself, live in Warwick Gardens, a bit this side of Addison
Bridge, so if you really mean to go home we may as well get a hansom,
and you can drop me at Warwick Gardens and go on."

"Of course I mean to go home, and I think that would be a very good
arrangement."

They had crossed over to the pavement in front of the Criterion as she
said this. It was on the tip of Maxwell's tongue to ask her to come in
and have another drink. He certainly felt a greater craving for alcohol
than he had ever done in his life before, and if he had been alone he
might have yielded to it; but he was ashamed to do so after what he had
just said to her, so he hailed an empty cab that was just coming up to
the kerb. As he was handing his companion in, the door of the buffet
swung open, and Reginald Garthorne came out with two other Cambridge
men. They were all a trifle fresh, and as Garthorne recognised him he
called out:

"By-by, Maxwell. Don't forget to say your prayers."

Maxwell turned round angrily with his foot on the step. If he had had
that other drink that he wanted there would have been a row, but, as it
was, a word and a gesture from Miss Carol brought him into the cab.
There was an angry flush on her cheeks and a wicked light in her eyes,
but she said very quietly, "Do you know, I am glad you thrashed that
fellow once. He ought to be ashamed of himself shouting a thing like
that out here. I suppose he thinks himself a gentleman, too."

"Oh, that's all right," said Vane. "Garthorne's a bit screwed, that's
all. Everyone is to-night. But he's not at all a bad fellow. His father
was a soldier in India, and did some very good service. He has a staff
appointment at home. He's a baronet too--one of the old ones. His mother
comes o