o doubt, as she progressed with the description of
Great Titchfield Street, that her mind was well occupied with the daily
work; she gave the recital clearly and well, avoiding repetition and
excluding any suggestion of monotony. Every moment of the hours there
seemed to engage her interest. It was her duty to keep the books, and
keep them straight; to answer the telephone, and sometimes make
purchases of reels of gold thread and of leather. The looms and the
netting machine were worked by men; the rest was done by girls. The
forewoman was described, and her domestic troubles lightly sketched
(Miss Rabbit's father backed horses, excepting when they came in
first). Madame herself was spoken of in lowered respectful
tones--partly because of her high position, partly because of shrewd
and businesslike methods. Madame, it appeared, attributed any success
she attained to the circumstance that she had steered clear of
matrimony. Madame told the girls sometimes that you could wed yourself
to business, or you could wed yourself to a man, but women who tried to
do both found themselves punished for bigamy, sooner or later. Gertie
was a favourite of Madame's; the main reason was, the girl thought,
that--

"Shan't tell you!" she said, interrupting herself.

"Let me hear the worst," begged young Douglass cheerfully. "I have,
just for the moment, the courage of a lion."

"Well, the reason is that she's under the impression I don't care much
for--for anybody special."

"And is Madame correct in her sanguine anticipations?"

"She was. Until a month or so ago."

He took the other hand quickly.

"Let's move on," she recommended, rising sedately. "I don't want to be
too late on pay night. Aunt will be thinking I've been knocked down
and robbed of my purse. She's country-bred--Berkshire--and she says
she doesn't trust Londoners." They went down the slope.

"Does she happen to know the town of Wallingford, I wonder?"

He declared, on receiving the answer, that nothing could be more
fortunate; this was, indeed, pure luck. For he too was acquainted with
Wallingford, and especially well he knew a village not far off: if he
could but meet Gertie's aunt, here was a subject of mutual interest.
Throwing away the serious manner that came intermittently, he
challenged her to race him down to the Albert Road gate; and she went
at her best speed, not discouraged by shouts from youngsters of "Go it,
little 'un!" They arrived