ound
that she was even better-looking than he had imagined, whilst her
carriage was perfection.

Nothing more was said until they were seated at one of the little tables
in the palm court, then, suddenly, "Oh, how I loathe those black men."
She brought the words out with a little shudder. "There are three or
four of them haunt Oxford Street."

"Are you often about town?" Jimmy asked. She looked at him with a kind
of grave surprise; then she turned away as she answered, "I am always
about town. I have to be. You understand?" Her voice was very low, but
the words were perfectly distinct.

Unconsciously, Jimmy twisted his gloves in his two hands so fiercely
that one of them tore nearly in half. The daylight seemed to have gone
suddenly, leaving the gilding of the place dull and heavy. He
understood. Her words had killed all the romance of their meeting; yet,
when he looked at her again, he could hardly believe she was speaking
the truth.

The waiter brought the tea, and she poured it out, with far more grace
of manner and movement than Mrs. Marlow would have shown. Moreover, she
made no affectation about not wanting the dainty little sandwiches and
cakes. "They are so delicious that I feel it's a sin to leave them," she
said, when he declared he would have no more.

"What is your name?" he asked abruptly, breaking what had been rather a
long silence. She was dusting some minute crumbs off her dress, and she
answered without looking up, "Penrose, Lalage Penrose."

She did not ask for his name, but he volunteered it; then, "May I come
and see you?" he added.

The girl hesitated a moment. "Why not?" she asked at last, but she
flushed at her own words, and her hand was unsteady as she wrote down
the address, which was one of a block of flats near Baker Street.

"Can I come to-morrow afternoon?"

She nodded and got up. At the entrance of the restaurant she stopped and
held out her hand. "Good-bye, and thank you."

"It's only _au revoir_, isn't it?" he answered, as he raised his hat,
then without looking back, for fear she would think he was watching her,
he walked away rapidly, his feelings a mixture of elation and of
something very nearly akin to misery.

Douglas Kelly was in when Jimmy called again at the club. "The waiter
gave me your card and I supposed you would come along soon. You look a
bit doleful. What are you going to drink?... That was a good article of
yours in the _Whitehall Gazette_ this evening."