the decomposition teemed with
ideas of duty, virtue, and love. He interrupted Lizzie's chit-chat
constantly with reflections concerning the necessity of religious
belief in women.

About seven they went to eat in a restaurant close by. It was an old
Italian chop-house that had been enlarged and modernized, but the
original marble tables where customers ate chops and steaks at low
prices were retained in a remote and distant corner. Lizzie proposed
to sit there. They were just seated when a golden-haired girl of
theatrical mien entered.

"That's Lottie Rily," exclaimed Lizzie. Then lowering her voice she
whispered quickly, "She was in love with Mike once; he was the fellow
she left her 'ome for. She's on the stage now, and gets four pounds a
week. I haven't seen her for the last couple of years. Lottie, come
and sit down here."

The girl turned hastily. "What, Lizzie, old pal, I have not seen you
for ages."

"Not for more than two years. Let me introduce you to my friend, Mr.
Escott--Miss Lottie Rily of the Strand Theatre."

"Very pleased to make your acquaintance, sir; the editor of the
_Pilgrim_, I presume?"

Frank smiled with pleasure, and the waiter interposed with the bill
of fare. Lottie ordered a plate of roast beef, and leaned across the
table to talk to her friend.

"Have you seen Mike lately?" asked Lizzie.

"Swine!" she answered, tossing her head. "No; and don't want to. You
know how he treated me. He left me three months after my baby was
born."

"Have you had a baby?"

"What, didn't you know that? It is seven months old; 'tis a boy,
that's one good job. And he hasn't paid me one penny piece. I have
been up to Barber and Barber's, but they advised me to do nothing.
They said that he owed them money, and that they couldn't get what he
owed them--a poor look-out for me. They said that if I cared to
summons him for the support of the child, that the magistrate would
grant me an order at once."

"And why don't you?" said Frank; "you don't like the _expose_ in the
newspapers."

"That's it."

"Do you care for him still?"

"I don't know whether I do, or don't. I shall never love another man,
I know that. I saw him in front about a month ago. He was in the
stalls, and he fixed his eyes upon me; I didn't take the least
notice, he was so cross. He came behind after the first act. He said,
'How old you are looking!' I said, 'What do you mean?' I was very
nicely made up too, and he said, 'Under the