ike a string of many-coloured gems.

Outside the Tube station they paused as though the same thought had
struck both of them.

"It is like the washing of the week before last," Mary said, as the
indescribable odour floated out to them.

"Why not take a 'bus?" said he. "The air grows more delicious."

"Why not, indeed?" she answered. "Except that I shall be so late getting
home. And it will keep you late for your dinner."

"So it will," he said. "To say nothing of your dinner. I know you had
only sandwiches and tea for lunch. You have told me that when you go
home you make yourself a chafing-dish supper. You must need a meal at
this moment. Supposing--Miss Gray, will you do me the honour of dining
with me?"

"Will you let me pay for my dinner? I am a working-woman, and expect to
be treated like a man."

"If you insist. But I hope you will not insist."

She looked at him for a moment hesitatingly. There was no prudery about
Mary Gray. She had become a woman of the world, and she had had no
reason to distrust the _camaraderie_ of men or to think it less than
honest.

"Very well, then," she said, "if you will let me pay for your lunch
another time."

"Why, so you shall," he answered. For a usually grave young man he
laughed with an uncommon joyousness. "You shall give me one day a French
lunch with a bottle of wine thrown in at one-and-sixpence. Mind, I must
have the wine."

"You shall have the wine. But it isn't good form to talk about the price
of a lunch you are invited to."

Laughing light-heartedly, they plunged into a labyrinth of dark streets.
The west wind had brought a gentle rain with it now. It was benignant
upon their faces, with a suggestion of grasses and spring flowers
pushing their heads above the earth. They passed by the Soho
restaurants, crowded to the doors. They found one at last in a more
pretentious street.

Over the dinner they laughed and talked. There was something
intoxicating to Robin Drummond's somewhat phlegmatic nature in their
being together after this friendly fashion.

"You have a crease in your forehead, just above your nose," he said,
while they waited for their salmon, the waiter having removed the plates
from which they had eaten their _bisque_. "Have the Working Women been
more unsatisfactory than usual to-day?"

"I was not thinking of the Working Women," she answered. "It is family
cares that are on my mind. Supposing you had seven young brothers and
sisters whom