ed wanton such
as Nancy Lord! No, it never came from her heart; it was moral cowardice;
from the first she had recognised Samuel Barmby's infinite superiority
to the ignoble, the impure girl who dared to deride him.

He saw her; their eyes met once, and again, and yet again. He knew that
she alone in the audience could comprehend his noble morality, grasp the
extent of his far-sighted speculations. To her he spoke. And in his deep
glowing heart he could not but thank her for such evidence of sympathy.

There followed a tedious debate, a muddy flow of gabble and balderdash.
It was over by ten o'clock. With jealous eyes she watched her hero
surrounded by people who thought, poor creatures, that they were worthy
of offering him congratulations. At a distance she lingered. And behold,
his eye once more fell upon her! He came out from among the silly
chatterers, and walked towards her.

'You played me a trick, Miss. Morgan. I should never have allowed you to
come all this way to hear me.'

'If I had come ten times the distance, I should have been repaid!'

His round eyes gloated upon the flattery.

'Well, well, I mustn't pretend that I think the lecture worthless. But
you might have had the manuscript to read. Are you quite alone? Then I
must take care of you. It's a wretched night; we'll have a cab to King's
Cross.'

He said it with a consciousness of large-handed generosity. Jessica's
heart leapt and throbbed.

She was by his side in the vehicle. Her body touched his. She felt
his warm breath as he talked. In all too short a time they reached the
railway station.

'Did you come this way? Have you a ticket? Leave that to me.'

Again largely generous, he strode to the booking-office.

They descended and stood together upon the platform, among hurrying
crowds, in black fumes that poisoned the palate with sulphur. This
way and that sped the demon engines, whirling lighted waggons full of
people. Shrill whistles, the hiss and roar of steam, the bang, clap,
bang of carriage-doors, the clatter of feet on wood and stone--all
echoed and reverberated from a huge cloudy vault above them. High and
low, on every available yard of wall, advertisements clamoured to the
eye: theatres, journals, soaps, medicines, concerts, furniture, wines,
prayer-meetings--all the produce and refuse of civilisation announced
in staring letters, in daubed effigies, base, paltry, grotesque. A
battle-ground of advertisements, fitly chosen amid s