dded to
madame, and did not glance at the man, but as she passed the girl she
said distinctly, "Bon soir, mademoiselle." The girl started and turned
towards her. Julie smiled sweetly and passed on.

Peter took her arm in the street, for it was quite dark and deserted.

"Why did you do that?" he said.

"What?" she demanded.

"Speak to that girl. You know what she is?"

"I do--a poor devil that's playing with Fate for the sake of a laugh and
a bit of ribbon. I'm jolly sorry for her, for they are both worth a great
deal, and it's hard to be cheated into thinking you've got them when Fate
is really winning the deal. And I saw her face before she turned away.
Why do you think she turned away, Peter? Not because she was ashamed, but
because she is beginning to know that Fate wins. Oh, la! la! what a
world! Let's be more cheerful. _'There's a long, long trail a-winding.'_"
she hummed.

Peter laughed. "Oh, my dear," he said, "was there ever anyone like you?"

Langton was reading in his room when Peter looked in to say good-night.

"Hullo!" he said. "See her home?"

"Yes," said Peter. "What did you think of her?"

"She's fathoms deep, I should say. But I should take care if I were you,
my boy. It's all very well to eat and drink with publicans and sinners,
though, as I told you, it's better no one should know. But they are
dangerous company."

"Why especially?" demanded Peter.

Langton stretched himself. "Oh, I don't know," he said. "Perhaps because
society's agin 'em."

"Look here, Langton," said Peter. "Do you hear what I say? _Damn_
society! Besides, do you think your description applies to that girl?"

Langton smiled. "No," he said, "I shouldn't think so, but she's not your
sort, Peter. When you take that tunic off, you've got to put on a black
coat. Whatever conclusions you come to, don't forget that."

"Have I?" said Peter; "I wonder."

Langton got up. "Of course you have," he said. "Life's a bit of a farce,
but one's got to play it. See here, I believe in facing facts and getting
one's eyes open, but not in making oneself a fool. Nothing's worth that."

"Isn't it?" said Peter; and again, "I wonder."

"Well, I don't, and at any rate I'm for bed. Good-night."

"Good-night," said Peter; "I'm off too. But I don't agree with you. I'm
inclined to think exactly the opposite--that anything worth having is
worth making oneself a fool over. What is a fool, anyway? Good-night."

He closed the door, and Langto