"

"I don't forget that."

"--And for your own peace of mind in the future, give it all up, and
you wait a bit until you find some one belonging to your own set."

"There isn't the distance between the sets there used to be," she
argued.

He took hold of the railings with both hands, and tried to shake them
in an effort of thought.

"What's the young chap's name?"

"I don't know."

"There you are!"--with gloomy triumph--"don't that prove the truth of
everything I've been saying?"

"He doesn't know mine."

"That isn't an argument."

"Quite so," the girl agreed. "It's only a statement of fact. He will
tell me his name directly I ask him, and I shall tell him my name the
moment he asks me."

"No occupation, I suppose?"

"He works for his living."

"Then," turning reproachfully upon her, "what did you mean by saying he
was a gentleman, and upsetting me to this extent?"

"He is a gentleman," persisted Gertie. "I can tell the difference."

Mr. Trew sighed, and took out his watch. Gertie glanced at it.

"I must go," she said. "I promised to meet him not far from the shop
at half-past."

"I'd do anything to help you, missy," he declared, "because I like you.
And it's just because I like you that I don't feel particular inclined
to assist him. He ought to keep to his own sphere. There's a lot of
talk about breaking down the barriers that divide one class from
another, but, I tell you, it's a job that wants very careful handling.
And I've got as much sense as most, and I rather enjoy interfering with
other people's affairs, but this is an undertaking I don't care to
tackle. You'll excuse me for speaking my mind, won't you? It's a
habit I've got into."

"It's a good habit," said Gertie. "I practise it myself."

On the return, Mr. Trew, cap now at the back of his head, and his
rubicund face bearing indications of seriousness, pointed out that the
girl was in a berth in Great Titchfield Street, which he described as
not so dusty, earning twenty-five shillings a week, and with Saturday
afternoons and Sundays free; a good home, and everything ready for her
when she returned, tired out, at night; first-class feeding, able to
dress well. Mr. Trew, without daring to say whether he was right or
whether he was wrong, begged to suggest there were many girls worse
treated by fortune; it did seem to him that these advantages ought not
to be given up lightly.

"There he is!" she cried excitedly. "Across