have been so pleased... Sorry. Rather like my brother-in-law. You'll
meet him at White Ladies."

"Is that where the bath's going?"

"Certainly. We shall be there in the spring. Will you come to our
bath-warming?"

"Perhaps."

We came to the bridge and the sunshine and the marching river, and
beyond these to Bridge Street and the green square. At the corner she
hesitated.

"I think I'd better say good-bye now."

"I'm going to see a fellow," said I. "I wish you'd come with me."

A quick look of surprise. Then:

"Do I know him?"

"I think so. He's one of the Times. Lunch Time he's called; brother
of Half Time. Both sons of the old man."

She smiled.

"Ah," she said. "I've an appointment with him, too. Only mine's at
home. I must be going. I'm keeping him waiting now."

She held out her hand. I looked at it.

"You've made a mistake," I said. "I know for a fact he's going to be
at the Carlton."

"No good! I know the family. The father taught them all the trick of
being able to be in more than one place at the same time."

"All of them?"

"Yes."

"My dear, you're wrong. You've forgotten Mean. He's got a place at
Greenwich, you know, and never leaves it. Well, I won't bother her,
for she's been awfully sweet. Shall I call her a taxi?"

She nodded. "I don't think we ought to stand here any longer: the
atmospheric pressure of the Labour party is already affecting my
breathing. Besides, any moment I might be mistaken for a Cabinet
Minister. I know a salesman's pretty bad, but I must draw the line
somewhere."

With that I hailed a taxi. As it was coming to the kerb:

"You're a dear C.B.," I said. "But I would have loved to have given
you lunch."

She smiled gently.

"Would you?"

"You know I would, lass. Well, I shall look forward to you and the
spring."

The cab drew up, and I opened the door. She stepped in.

"Where shall I tell him to go?"

For a moment she hesitated. Then she spoke slowly:

"Was it the Carlton you said?"

An hour later I stood once more at a taxi's door. Our luncheon was
over, and I was saying farewell.

"You've been awfully kind," said the girl.

"Good-bye," said I. "I shall look forward to you at White Ladies."

"And to the spring."

I bowed.

"My dear, the terms are synonymous."

The smile deepened.

"If this wasn't the Haymarket," said I...

She was gone, her eyes full of laughter.

I turned to see Berry three paces aw