tract with that tenant of his--I've forgotten the
fellow's name.'

'Well, that must be looked into. There's perhaps no reason why the
contract should not be concluded. Little by little we may come to
justify our name; who knows? In the meantime, we at all events do a
_bona fide_ business.'

'Strictly so.'

Rodman had a good deal of business on hand besides that which arose from
his connection with Irish dairies. If Alice imagined him strolling
at his ease about the fashionable lounges of the town, she was much
mistaken. He worked hard and enjoyed his work, on the sole condition
that he was engaged in overreaching someone. This flattered his humour.

He could not find leisure to dine till nearly nine o'clock. He had made
up his mind not to return to Wimbledon, but to make use of a certain
_pied-a-terre_ which he had in Pimlico. His day's work ended in
Westminster, he dined at a restaurant with a friend. Afterwards
billiards were proposed. They entered a house which Rodman did not know,
and were passing before the bar to go to the billiard-room, when a
man who stood there taking refreshment called out, 'Hollo, Rodman!' To
announce a man's name in this way is a decided breach of etiquette in
the world to which Rodman belonged. He looked annoyed, and would have
passed on, but his acquaintance, who had perhaps exceeded the limits
of modest refreshment, called him again and obliged him to approach the
bar. As he did so Rodman happened to glance at the woman who stood ready
to fulfil the expected order. The glance was followed by a short but
close scrutiny, after which he turned his back and endeavoured by a sign
to draw his two acquaintances away. But at the same moment the barmaid
addressed him.

'What is yours, Mr. Rodman?'

He shrugged his shoulders, muttered a strong expression, and turned
round again. The woman met his look steadily. She was perhaps thirty,
rather tall, with features more refined than her position would have
led one to expect. Her figure was good but meagre; her cheeks were very
thin, and the expression of her face, not quite amiable at any time, was
at present almost fierce. She seemed about to say something further, but
restrained herself.

Rodman recovered his good temper.

'How do, Clara?' he said, keeping his eye fixed on hers. 'I'll have a
drop of absinthe, if you please.'

Then he pursued his conversation with the two men. The woman, having
served them, disappeared. Rodman kept looking