ron
sharply. He was annoyed. That was the second time she had insisted on
his poverty. He thought she had a little too much the air of preparing
herself to be a poor man's wife. Of course it was pretty of her; but
he thought it would have been prettier still if she had let it alone.

Now Flossie had never thought of him as a poor man before to-night;
but somehow the idea of the good income he might have had and hadn't
made him appear poor by comparison. She lay back in the hansom
meditating. "If you could only write a play like that, Keith, what a
lot of money you'd make."

"Shouldn't I? But then, you see, I couldn't write a play like that."

"Rubbish. I don't believe that author--what d'you call him?--is so
very much cleverer than you."

"Thanks." He bowed ironically.

"Well, I mean it. And look how they clapped him--why, they made as
much fuss about him as any of the actors. I say, wouldn't you like to
hear them calling 'Author! Author!'? And then clapping!"

"H'm!"

"Oh, wouldn't you love it just; you needn't pretend! Look there, I
declare I've split my glove." (That meant, as Flossie had calculated,
a new pair that _she_ should not have to pay for.)

"If _you_ clapped me I would, Flossie. I should need all the
consolation I could get if I'd written as bad a play."

"Well, if that was a bad play, I'd like to see a good one."

"I'll take you to a good one some day."

"Soon?"

"Well, I'm afraid not very soon." He smiled; for the play he thought
of taking her to was not yet written; would never be written if many
of his evenings were like this. But to Flossie, meditating, his words
bore only one interpretation--that Keith was really very much worse
off than she had taken him to be.

As they lingered on the doorstep in Tavistock Place, a young man
approached them in a deprecating manner from the other side of the
street, and took off his hat to Flossie.

"Hallo, Spinks!" said Rickman.

"That you, Razors?" said Spinks.

"It is. What are you doing here?"

"Oh nothing. I was in the neighbourhood, and I thought I'd have a look
at the old place."

"Come in, will you? (If they don't come, Flossie, I shall _have_ to
use my latch-key.")

"Not to-night, thanks, it's a bit too late. I'd better be going." But
he did not go.

"I hope," said Flossie politely, "you're comfortable where you are
now?"

"Oh, very comfortable, very comfortable indeed." Yet his voice had a
melancholy sound, and under the gas-l