e was looking eastwards away from him, and her expression
had changed; but it was still inscrutable. And yet by the turning of
her head, he saw her mind moving towards a conclusion; but it was
impossible to say whether she reached it by the slow process of
induction, or by woman's rapid intuition. Anyhow she had reached it.
Presently she spoke again. "Could you still get that thing, that
partnership any time--if you tried?"

"Any time. But I'm not going to try."

She turned round abruptly with an air of almost fierce determination.
"Well, if _I_ get an offer of a good place, _I_ shan't refuse it. I
shall leave the Bank." She spoke as if so desperate a step would be
followed by the instantaneous collapse of that institution.

He was surprised to find how uneasy this threat always made him. The
proverbial safety of the Bank had impressed him in more ways than one.
And Flossie's post there had other obvious advantages. It brought her
into contact with women of a better class than her own, with small
refinements, and conventions which were not conspicuous at Mrs.
Downey's.

"Let me implore you not to do that. Heaven knows, I hate you having to
earn your own living at all, but I'd rather you did it that way than
any other."

"Why, what difference would it make to you, I should like to know?"

"It makes all the difference if I know you're doing easy work, not
slaving yourself to death as some girls do. It _is_ an easy berth.
And--and I like the look of those girls I saw you with to-day. They
were nice. I'd rather think of you working with them than sitting in
some horrible office like a man. Promise me you won't go looking out
for anything else."

"All right. I promise."

"No, but--on your honour?"

"Honour bright. There! Anything for a quiet life."

They turned on to the street again. Rickman looked at his watch. "Look
here, we're both late for dinner--supposing we go and dine somewhere
and do a theatre after, eh?"

"Oh no--we mustn't." All the same Flossie's eyes brightened, for she
dearly loved the play.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't think perhaps you ought to."

"You mean I can't afford it?"

"Well--"

"Oh, I fancy even a journalist's income will run to that."

It did run to that and to a hansom afterwards, though Flossie
protested, dragging at his arm.

"I'd rather walk," said she, "indeed I would."

"Nonsense. Come, bundle in."

"Please--please let me walk." He helped her in and closed the ap