irl (rather pretty) who worked
too hard and never had any fun to speak of; but the rest of the time
he never thought of her at all.

And in the early days of their acquaintance, Miss Flossie Walker (then
only an apprentice to a firm of type-writers in Holborn) was very much
to be pitied. He could remember how she had come (a little while
before that memorable Bank holiday) to Mrs. Downey's boarding-house, a
plump but rather anaemic maiden, black-haired, and demure. He had
begun by talking to her at table, because she sat next to him, and he
had ended, if there ever is an end to these things, by taking her to
matinees, picture-galleries, restaurants, and the British Museum. The
girl was so young, so confiding, and so obviously respectable, that he
was careful to keep to the most guileless of middle-class
entertainments. A few weeks of this existence brought shy smiles and a
lively play of dimples on Flossie's face. She grew plumper still, less
anaemic, though hardly less demure. A few months, and Flossie's beauty
flowered and expanded, she began to dress as became it, entering into
rivalry with Miss Ada Bishop, until it dawned on him that Flossie was
really, in her own place and way, a very engaging little creature.

About this time Flossie's circumstances had improved as much as her
appearance. Her father had been a clerk in the Bank of England, and on
his death she obtained a post there as a sorter. That position gave
Flossie both dignity and independence; it meant light work and hours
which brought hope with them every day towards three o'clock. Under
these circumstances Flossie's beauty went on flowering and expanding,
till she became more than ever a thing of danger and disaster.

Her intimacy with Mr. Rickman, which had lapsed lately, owing to his
increasing passion for solitude and separation, revived suddenly in
the spring of ninety-five. It happened in this manner. With the
spring, Mrs. Downey's was once more agitated by the hope of the Bank
holiday, and Mr. Spinks inquired of Rickman if he were going out of
town for Easter. (Rickman was incautiously dining that evening at the
general table.) But Rickman wasn't going out of town. He said he
thought of going somewhere up the river. He had also thought, though
he did not say so, that in fulfilment of an ancient promise he would
take Miss Flossie to the play on Saturday afternoon. Yet when it came
to the point he had some diffidence in asking her. She might not t