ver, and they were alone.

The girl drew a long breath, which might very well have been one of
relief. They turned silently toward the exit.

"Are you going back home?" Laverick asked.

"Yes," she answered listlessly. "There is nothing else to do."

"Isn't it rather sad for you there by yourself?"

She nodded.

"It is the first time," she said. "Another girl and her mother
have lived with me always. They started off last week, touring.
They are paying a little toward the house or I should have to go
into rooms. As it is, I think that it would be more comfortable."

Laverick looked at her wonderingly.

"You seem such a child," he said, "to be left all alone in the
world like this."

"But I am not a child actually, you see," she answered, with an
effort at lightness. "Somehow, though, I do miss Arthur's going.
His father was always very good to me, and made him promise that
he would do what he could. I didn't see much of him, but one felt
always that there was somebody. It's different now. It makes
one feel very lonely."

"I, too," Laverick said, with commendable mendacity, "am rather a
lonely person. You must let me see something of you now and then."

She looked up at him quickly. Her gaze was altogether disingenuous,
but her eyes--those wonderful eyes--spoke volumes.

"If you really mean it," she said, "I should be so glad."

"Supposing we start to-day," he suggested, smiling. "I cannot ask
you to lunch, as I have a busy day before me, but we might have
dinner together quite early. Then I would take you to the theatre
and meet you afterwards, if you liked."

"If I liked!" she whispered. "Oh, how good you are."

"I am not at all sure about that. Now I'll put you in this taxi
and send you home."

She laughed.

"You mustn't do anything so extravagant. I can get a 'bus just
outside. I never have taxicabs."

"Just this morning," he insisted, "and I think he won't trouble you
for his fare. You must let me, please. Remember that there's a
large account open still between your half-brother and me, so you
needn't mind these trifles. Till this evening, then. Shall I
fetch you or will you come to me?"

"Let me fetch you, if I may," she said. "It isn't nice for you to
come down to where I live. It's such a horrid part."

"Just as you like," he answered. "I'd be very glad to fetch you
if you prefer it, but it would give me more time if you came. Shall
we say seven o'clock? I've w