rvices of Bonsfield & Co.? All these questions gyrated
wildly in her mind, swept about, confused at finding no plausible
answers to their importunate demands.

Then, lastly, who was he? There are men who suggest to you that they
must be somebody; there is an air of distinction about them that
glosses the cheapest coat and creases the poorest pair of trousers.
If they are poorly dressed, then it must be that they are
masquerading; if their clothes are well-fitting, then it is only what
you would have expected. It makes for no definite confirmation of
your opinion.

Sally was made conscious of this impression, and, in its way, that
thrilled her too. You have little chance with a woman in this world
if you are a nonentity. Personality inevitably wins its way, and,
in that she was susceptible to the personality of the man beside her,
Sally forgot the circumstances of their acquaintance, forgot to
review them with that same impartial judgment which she would have
exercised had the man conveyed to her mind a more commonplace
impression.

Stung then with curiosity to know how he had heard of her, how he
had come to be waiting in King Street until she should leave off her
work, or whether, as she suspected, it were only that he had been
attracted to her as she passed by, she gave herself away with
unconscious ingenuousness.

"Why were you waiting in King Street?" she asked suddenly.

The words hurried, tumbling in a confusion of self-consciousness
from her lips.

"Oh--you saw me there?" said he.

"Yes."

"You saw me when you passed?"

"Yes."

"Did you know I was walking behind you all the way to Piccadilly
Circus?"

"N--no--how should I?"

"You looked back once or twice."

"Did I?"

"Why do you want to know why I was waiting in King Street?"

"I don't want to know particularly."

"Shall I tell you?"

"Yes."

"I had seen you through the window--working at that ghastly
typewriter--stood there for more than a quarter of an hour--down the
street--waiting till you got sick of it. Then I was going to ask you
to come and have tea with me--dinner if you'd liked. I wanted some
one to talk to; I was going back to my rooms. When they're empty,
a man's rooms can be the most godless--"

She stood up abruptly, striking her hat against the roof of the
umbrella.

"Will you let me out, please?"

"But you told me you were going to Hammersmith. This is only
Knightsbridge."

"I'm getting down here."

He stood u