him in silence down three flights of stone steps. On each
landing there were names upon the doors--two firms of hop merchants,
a solicitor, and a commission agent. The ground floor was some sort of
warehouse, from which came a strong smell of leather.

Tavernake opened the outside door with a small key and they passed into
the street.

"London Bridge Station is just across the way," he said. "The
refreshment room will be open and we can get some breakfast at once."

"What time is it?" she asked.

"About half-past seven."

She walked by his side quite meekly, and although there were many things
which she was longing to say, she remained absolutely without the power
of speech. Except that he was looking a little crumpled, there was
nothing whatever in his appearance to indicate that he had been up all
night. He looked exactly as he had done on the previous day, he
seemed even quite unconscious that there was anything unusual in their
relations. As soon as they arrived at the station, he pointed to the
ladies' waiting-room.

"If you will go in and arrange your hair there," he said, "I will go and
order breakfast and have a shave. I will be back here in about twenty
minutes. You had better take this."

He offered her a shilling and she accepted it without hesitation. As
soon as he had gone, however, she looked at the coin in her hand in
blank wonder. She had accepted it from him with perfect naturalness and
without even saying "Thank you!" With a queer little laugh, she pushed
open the swinging doors and made her way into the waiting-room.

In hardly more than a quarter of an hour she emerged, to find Tavernake
waiting for her. He had retied his tie, bought a fresh collar, had been
shaved. She, too, had improved her appearance.

"Breakfast is waiting this way," he announced.

She followed him obediently and they sat down at a small table in the
station refreshment-room.

"Mr. Tavernake," she asked, suddenly, "I must ask you something. Has
anything like this ever happened to you before?"

"Nothing," he assured her, with some emphasis.

"You seem to take everything so much as a matter of course," she
protested.

"Why not?"

"Oh, I don't know," she replied, a little feebly. "Only--"

She found relief in a sudden and perfectly natural laugh.

"Come," he said, "that is better. I am glad that you feel like
laughing."

"As a matter of fact," she declared, "I feel much more like crying.
Don't you know that y