other girl,--she who answered to the name of Helen,--though nearly
as tall and quite as graceful, was robed so simply in muslin that she
might have provided an intentional contrast. In the man's esteem she
lost nothing thereby. He appraised her by the fine contour of her oval
face, the wealth of glossy brown hair that clustered under her hat,
and the gleam of white teeth between lips of healthy redness. Again,
had he looked through a woman's eyes, he would have seen how the
difference between Bond-st. and Kilburn as shopping centers might be
sharply accentuated. But that distinction did not trouble him. Beneath
a cold exterior he had an artist's soul, and "Helen" met an ideal.

"Pretty as a peach!" he said to himself, and he continued to gaze at
her. Indeed, for an instant he forgot himself, and it was not until
she spoke again that he realized how utterly oblivious were both girls
of his nearness.

"I suppose everybody who comes here is very rich," was her rather
awe-stricken comment.

Her companion laughed. "How nice of you to put it that way! It makes
me feel quite important. I lunch or dine or sup here often, and the
direct inference is that I am rolling in wealth."

"Well, dear, you earn a great deal of money----"

"I get twenty pounds a week, and this frock I am wearing cost
twenty-five. Really, Helen, you are the sweetest little goose I ever
met. You live in London, but are not of it. You haven't grasped the
first principle of social existence. If I dressed within my means, and
never spent a sovereign until it was in my purse, I should not even
earn the sovereign. I simply must mix with this crowd whether I can
afford it or not."

"But surely you are paid for your art, not as a mannikin. You
are almost in the front rank of musical comedy. I have seen you
occasionally at the theater, and I thought you were the best dancer
in the company."

"What about my singing?"

"You have a very agreeable and well trained voice."

"I'm afraid you are incorrigible. You ought to have said that I sang
better than I danced, and the fib would have pleased me immensely;
we women like to hear ourselves praised for accomplishments we don't
possess. No, my dear, rule art out of the cast and substitute
advertisement. Did you notice a dowdy creature who was lunching
with two men on your right? She wore a brown Tussore silk and a
turban--well, she writes the 'Pars About People' in 'The Daily
Journal.' I'll bet you a pair of glo