t where so many strugglers and aspirants brought their hopes
and their inspirations. This little bit of humanity seemed on this day
uninspired, cast down, and he had remarked her generally before because
of her gaiety, her eagerness, and he had avoided her because he knew
that she would be sympathetic with him.

In a sort of revenge possible on himself, and feeling his own
loneliness, he permitted himself to look long at her and saw how
miserably poor her dress was, how rusty and dusty her cape, how trodden
down were her little shoes. She was all in brown, from the old beaver
hat to her boots, in a soft, old-faded note of colour, and her hair was
gloriously golden like a chrysanthemum. As Antony looked at her she took
out her handkerchief and wiped something off her cheek and from her
eyes. His luncheon of steak and potatoes had been served him. He took up
his napkin and his dinner and limped over to the table where the English
girl sat bowed over.

"Would you like a comrade for luncheon? Say so, if you don't want me."
He saw her start, wipe her eyes and look up with a sob on her lips.

"Oh, yes, I don't mind." Her voice was stifled. "Sit down, it is good of
you."

The girl covered her face with her hands for a second and then wiped her
eyes determinedly, as if she fetched herself out of stony depths. She
smiled tremulously and her lips were as red and full and sweet as a
rose.

"Garcon," he ordered, "fetch two bocks. Yes, mademoiselle, it will do
you good."

"I say," she fluttered, "were you lonely over there in your corner?"

Fairfax nodded. She put out her little hand, stained with paint and oil,
and it was cold and delicate as it touched his. It seemed to need the
strength of the man's big, warm grasp.

"I have always liked your face, do you know--always," she said. "I knew
that you could be a real pal if you wanted. You are not like the others.
I expect you are a great swell at something. Writing?"

"No, I am a workman in Barye's studio--a sculptor."

"Oh," she said incredulously. "You look '_arrive_,' awfully
distinguished. I expect you really _are_ something splendid."

The beer came foaming. The girl lifted her glass with a hand which
trembled. Tears hung on her lashes still, ready to fall, but she was a
little sport and full of character and life. She nodded at Fairfax and
murmured--

"Here's to our being friends."

Her voice was sweet and musical. They drank the draught to friendship.

Fairfa