anything any of
the seven could do for her, each and every would be delighted to do, if
only for the sake of her brother, one of the dearest boys that ever
breathed--a bit of an ass, though that, of course, he could not help.
"Miss Bulstrode" was not as grateful as perhaps she should have been. Her
idea still was that if one of them would lend her a couple of sovereigns,
the rest need not worry themselves further. This, purely in her own
interests, they declined to do. She had suffered one extensive robbery
that day already, as Jack reminded her. London was a city of danger to
the young and inexperienced. Far better that they should watch over her
and provide for her simple wants. Painful as it was to refuse a lady, a
beloved companion's sister's welfare was yet dearer to them. "Miss
Bulstrode's" only desire was not to waste their time. Jack Herring's
opinion was that there existed no true Englishman who would grudge time
spent upon succouring a beautiful maiden in distress.

Arrived at the little grocer's shop in Rolls Court, Jack Herring drew
Mrs. Postwhistle aside.

"She's the sister of a very dear friend of ours," explained Jack Herring.

"A fine-looking girl," commented Mrs. Postwhistle.

"I shall be round again in the morning. Don't let her out of your sight,
and, above all, don't lend her any money," directed Jack Herring.

"I understand," replied Mrs. Postwhistle.

"Miss Bulstrode" having despatched an excellent supper of cold mutton and
bottled beer, leant back in her chair and crossed her legs.

"I have often wondered," remarked Miss Bulstrode, her eyes fixed upon the
ceiling, "what a cigarette would taste like."

"Taste nasty, I should say, the first time," thought Mrs. Postwhistle,
who was knitting.

"Some girls, so I have heard," remarked Miss Bulstrode, "smoke
cigarettes."

"Not nice girls," thought Mrs. Postwhistle.

"One of the nicest girls I ever knew," remarked Miss Bulstrode, "always
smoked a cigarette after supper. Said it soothed her nerves."

"Wouldn't 'ave thought so if I'd 'ad charge of 'er," said Mrs.
Postwhistle.

"I think," said Miss Bulstrode, who seemed restless, "I think I shall go
for a little walk before turning in."

"Perhaps it would do us good," agreed Mrs. Postwhistle, laying down her
knitting.

"Don't you trouble to come," urged the thoughtful Miss Bulstrode. "You
look tired."

"Not at all," replied Mrs. Postwhistle. "Feel I should like it."

In some