wn anywhere, Miss Baldwin," Wingate invited, as he
ushered that young lady into his rooms soon after eleven o'clock on the
following evening. "Now what can I give you? There are some sandwiches
here--ham and pate-de-foie-gras, I think. Whisky and soda or some hock?"

"A pate sandwich and some plain soda water, please," Sarah replied,
taking off the long motoring coat which concealed her evening clothes. "I
have been fined for everything except disorderly driving--daren't risk
that. Thanks!" she went on. "What ripping sandwiches! And quite a good
play, wasn't it?"

"I am glad you enjoyed it."

"It was a swindle Josephine not turning up," Sarah continued, as she
stretched herself out in Wingate's easy-chair. "Domestic ructions again,
I suppose. How I do hate that husband of hers!"

"It was disappointing," he admitted.

There was a brief pause, during which Sarah finished her sandwiches and
lit a cigarette.

"Wilshaw seems to be having a little trouble with the outside porter,"
her host remarked presently.

"It must cost him at least half a sovereign every time I leave the cab,"
Sarah sighed.

"How much do you make a week out of your driving, if it isn't too
personal a question?" he enquired.

"It depends upon how much Jimmy's got."

"Is he your only client, then?"

"He very seldom gives me a chance of another. Once or twice I've refused
to be engaged by the day, but he sends his man around to the garage and I
find him sitting in the cab when I arrive."

Wingate laughed softly. She looked up at him with twinkling eyes.

"I believe you're making fun of my profession," she complained.

"Not at all, but I was wondering whether it wouldn't be cheaper for you
to marry Jimmy, as you call him."

"We have spoken about it once or twice," she admitted. "The worst of it
is, I don't think the cab would support two."

"Is Wilshaw so badly off?"

"His money is tied up until he is twenty-eight," Sarah explained. "I
think that his father must have known how he was going to turn out.
Jimmy promised that he would never anticipate it, and the dear old thing
keeps his word. We shall be married on his twenty-eighth birthday, all
right, unless his mother does the decent thing before."

"Has she money?" Wingate asked.

"Plenty--but she hasn't much confidence in Jimmy. I think she shows signs
of wavering lately, though. Perhaps his latest idea--he's going into the
City to-morrow, you know--may bring her around.--Mr. Wingat