ng it, I found myself in earnest conversation with
a young man sitting next to me. We conversed of life, of love. Not until
afterwards, reflecting upon the matter, did it surprise me that to a
mere chance acquaintance of the moment he had spoken of the one thing
dearest to his heart: a sweet but clearly wayward maiden, the Hebe of
a small, old-fashioned coffee-shop the 'bus was at that moment passing.
Hitherto I had not been the recipient of confidences. It occurred to me
that as a rule not even my friends spoke much to me concerning their
own affairs; generally it was I who spoke to them of mine. I sympathised
with him, advised him--how, I do not recollect. He said, however, he
thought that I was right; and at Regent Street he left me, expressing
his determination to follow my counsel, whatever it may have been.

Between Berners Street and the Circus I lent a shilling to a couple of
young ladies who had just discovered with amusement, quickly swallowed
by despair, that they neither of them had any money with them. (They
returned it next day in postage stamps, with a charming note.) The
assurance with which I tendered the slight service astonished me myself.
At any other time I should have hesitated, argued with my fears, offered
it with an appearance of sulky constraint, and been declined. For
a moment they were doubtful, then, looking at me, accepted with a
delightful smile. They consulted me as to the way to Paternoster Row.
I instructed them, adding a literary anecdote, which seemed to interest
them. I even ventured on a compliment, neatly phrased, I am inclined to
think. Evidently it pleased--a result hitherto unusual in the case of
my compliments. At the corner of Southampton Row I parted from them with
regret. Why had I never noticed before how full of pleasant people this
sweet and smiling London?

At the corner of Queen's Square a decent-looking woman stopped me to ask
the way to the Children's Hospital at Chelsea, explaining she had made a
mistake, thinking it was the one in Great Ormond Street where her child
lay. I directed her, then glancing into her face, noticed how tired
she looked, and a vista of the weary pavements she would have to tramp
flashed before me. I slipped some money into her hand and told her to
take a 'bus. She flushed, then thanked me. I turned a few yards further
on; she was starting after me, amazement on her face. I laughed and
waved my hand to her. She smiled back in return, and went