khart's is."

"Lockhart's?"

"The Cocoa Rooms. In the 'First Class' you find quite a collection of
shabby gentility. And you'd never believe what a lot you can get there
for tuppence."

"Eh!"

"I'll tell you, you might find it useful some day; one never knows. You
can get a huge cup of tea or coffee--a bit stewed--but, at least, it's
warm; also, four huge pieces of bread and butter, and a good, long,
lovely rest."

"Good God!"

"For tuppence more you can get sausages; sixpence provides a meal; a
shilling a banquet. Can't we find a 'Lockhart'?"

The man said nothing. The cab drove onward. Mavis, now that her
resentment against Windebank's prosperity had found relief in words,
was sorry that she had spoken as she had. After all, the man's
well-being was entirely his own affair; it was not remotely associated
with the decline in the fortunes of her family. She would like to say
or do something to atone for her bitter words.

"Poor little girl! Poor little girl!"

This was said by Windebank feelingly, pityingly; he seemed unconscious
that they had been overheard by Mavis. She was firmly, yes, quite
firmly, resolved to hate him, whatever he might do to efface her
animosity.

Meanwhile, the cab had fetched something of a compass, and had now
turned into Regent Street.

"Here we are: this'll do," suddenly cried Windebank.

"What for?"

"Grub. Hi, stop!"

Obedient to his summons, the cabman stopped. Mavis got out on the
pavement, where she stood irresolute.

"You'll come in?"

Mavis did not reply.

"We must have a talk. Please, please don't refuse me this."

"I shan't eat anything."

"If you don't, I shan't."

"I won't--I swear I won't accept the least favour from you."

She looked at him resentfully: she would go any lengths to conceal her
lessening dislike for him.

"You'd better wait," he called to the cabman, as he led the way to a
restaurant.

Two attendants, in gold-laced coats, opened double folding doors at the
approach of the man and the girl.

Mavis found herself in a large hall, elaborately decorated with red and
gold, upon the floor of which were many tables, that just now were
sparsely occupied.

Windebank looked from table to table, as if in search of something. His
eye, presently, rested on one, at which an elderly matron was supping
with a parson, presumably her husband.

"Good luck!" Windebank murmured, adding to the girl, "This way."

Mavis followed him up the hall to th