ventured a "good evening." When he answered, she was filled with a
pleasure which she would have found it hard to explain. "Evening," said
Toby, surlily, and passed on. Sally gave a small grimace, a faint jerk
of the head. That was done. A few more days passed. Still in the
darkness she saw him a third time, now as she closed the door of the
room, while Toby hurried to the floor above. By questions, she had found
out that he lived exactly over them, and that his aunt had the room next
to his, in the front of the house. This aunt she never saw, as she was
very exclusive, and did not associate at all with her neighbours. Toby's
surname she could not learn; but his aunt was called Mrs. Tapping. The
aunt had an annuity. Toby worked somewhere in the neighbourhood; and
Sally soon discovered the time of his departure and return. She knew
these so well that she could have told you to the minute when his foot
might be expected upon the stairs. If he happened to be late she could
have remarked upon it to her mother if she had been in the habit of
telling her mother anything at all.

Later, when they had been in the house about three weeks, she had a
triumph. She was going out one evening and was barely down the first
two or three stairs when she heard him running behind her. He was forced
to pull up, and, from a peep, she saw that he was still half a flight
above. Their progress from that instant coincided. They reached the
front door almost at the same time. She left it open, and as Toby came
out she turned and smiled "good evening." He replied. Sally followed
with "Beautiful, isn't it!" and then went slowly towards Tollington
Park. Would he follow? She was almost breathless, her eyes downcast, her
ears strained. He did not follow. Sally frowned. A sneer came to her
lips. Then a pensiveness succeeded, and resolve became fixed. All right;
he did not follow. He was a man. All the more worthy of her address.

Moreover, she had noticed him more clearly than ever before, because the
gas in the hall had lighted his face as she turned upon the threshold.
He was strong, and she adored strength. He was broad and muscular and
dark. He had dark eyes under heavy brows. His age she supposed to be
about twenty or slightly above. As she recollected these details Sally's
face became inscrutable. All the same, her walk had lost its savour, and
she returned home earlier than usual. How miserable it was that she had
no other girl of her own age