g sleepy and indifferent by the hand of a policeman. For an
instant the restless movement seemed to be crystallized--the hansoms,
the bicycles, the omnibuses, the carts were all held, then at a sign the
flow and interflow had begun once more; life was hurled in and hurled
out again, stirred and tossed and turned, as though some giant cook were
up in the heavens busy over a giant pudding.

And the light faded and the lamps came out, and Miss Rand, walking
through two streets that were as dark and secret as though they were
spying on the Circus and were going to give all its secrets away very
shortly, passed into Saxton Square.

To-night Miss Rand had more to think about than Oxford Circus. She was
tired after all the work that there had been during the last few days,
and she always noticed that it was when she was tired that she was ready
to imagine things. She had been imagining things all day and had found
it really difficult to keep steadily to her proper work, but out and
beyond her imaginations there was, before her, this definite, tremendous
fact--namely, that she would find, this evening, on entering her little
drawing-room, that Mr. Francis Breton was being entertained at tea by
her sister and mother.

It was a quarter to seven now, so perhaps he had gone, but at any rate
there would be a great deal that her mother and sister would wish to
tell her about him. A week ago Mr. Francis Breton had come to live on
the second floor in 24 Saxton Square, had put there his own furniture,
had brought with him his own man-servant (a most sinister-looking man).
These matters might have remained (although, of course, Miss Lizzie
Rand's connection with the Beaminster family made his arrival of the
most dramatic interest) had not Miss Daisy Rand (Miss Lizzie Rand's
prettier and younger sister) happened, one evening, to run into Mr.
Breton in the dark hall; she screamed aloud because she thought him a
burglar, became very shaky about the knees, and needed Mr. Breton's
assistance as far as the Rand drawing-room. Here, of course, there
followed conversation; finally Mr. Breton was asked to tea and accepted
the invitation.

On this very afternoon must this tea-party have taken place. Lizzie Rand
knew her mother and sister very well, and she had, long ago, learnt that
their motto was, "Let everything go for the sake of adventure." That was
well enough, but when your income was very small indeed, and you wished
to do no work at al