s. I don't believe Mr. Kendrick told us the truth
about you at all."

Wingate smiled good-humouredly.

"Tell me what Kendrick has been saying, and I will let you know whether
it is the truth or not," he promised.

"Well, he has just given us a thrilling picture of you," she went on,
"coming over here armed cap-a-pie to do battle for the romance of money.
Already we were picturing to ourselves poor Dreadnought Phipps, the
first of your victims, seeking for an asylum in the Stock Exchange
Almshouses; and the other desperado--what was his name? Skinflint
Martin?--on his knees before you while you read him a moral lecture on
the evils of speculation."

Wingate's eyes twinkled.

"From all of which I judge that you have been discussing the British and
Imperial Granaries," he remarked.

"Our dear young friend, Miss Baldwin," Kendrick said, "has a vivid
imagination and a wonderful gift of picturesque similies. Still, I
have just been telling them that one reason why I wouldn't touch B. &
I.'s is because they have an idea over here that you are going to have
a shy at them."

"My attitude toward the company in question is certainly an unfriendly
one," Wingate admitted. "I hate all speculations the basis of which is
utterly selfish. Dealing in foodstuffs is one of them. But, Miss
Baldwin," he went on, turning towards her, "why do we talk finance on
such a wonderful afternoon, and so far away from the City? I really came
over from the States to get an occasional cocktail, order some new
clothes and see some plays. What theatres do you advise me to go to?"

"I can tell you plenty," she answered, "which I should advise you to stay
away from. It is quite easy to see, Mr. Wingate, that you have been away
from London quite a long time. You are not in the least in touch with us.
On the Stock Exchange they do little, nowadays, I am told, but invent
stories which the members can tell only to other men's wives, and up in
the west we do little else except talk finance. The money we used to lose
at auction bridge now all goes to our brokers. We worry the lives out of
our men friends by continually craving for tips."

"Dear me," Wingate remarked, "I had no idea things were as bad as that."

"Now what," Sarah asked ingratiatingly, "is your honest opinion about
British and Imperial Granaries?"

"If I gave it to you," Wingate replied, "my opinion would be the only
honest thing about it."

"Then couldn't one do some good by selling