mpress upon my mind Mr. Carville's deliberate
intention to fashion for us a tale from the agony of his life, to give
us, with such art as he possessed, a picture of an obscure and alien
romance.

"Miss Flagg, it seems, was a journalist, and Gladys--well, she was a
journalist too, I suppose. From what she told me I gathered she did
translations for different agencies, and earned a little that way. When
I told them what I'd come in for, they said there was a flat in
Serjeant's Inn just around the corner, which was to be let furnished. I
told them I was going in for an exam. and afterwards I was going to take
my little papers to a publisher. Miss Flagg lit up like a bonfire at
this, and says she, 'I'm a literary agent. Do let me read it; I may be
able to place it.'

"I looked at her. To my mind she didn't seem the sort of woman who would
understand the things I'd been writing about; old Croasan and the Chief
with the glass eye, the firemen and all the rest of them. However, I
said I'd let her have it if she liked. Gladys looked at me when I came
out as an author. She'd never had any opinion of me, you see. She liked
_clever_ people, people with flash and glitter, who could dance and talk
with a spatter about everything--like my brother. You can believe I
wanted to know why she'd left him, if she'd ever gone to him. I said, 'I
thought you were going out when I saw you,' and she took the hint. We
went down again and out into the Strand.

"'Is it any use?' I said, and the big Law Courts' clock boomed out over
our heads. It sounded like NO in my ears.

"She shook her head. 'Quite impossible,' she said. 'Well, where's
Frank?' I asked her.

"She didn't know. He'd dropped her just the same as he dropped anything
else he had no use for, without a word. And I think it was shame more
than because she didn't care for me that made her say it was impossible.
I don't know--what is a woman's pride, anyhow? See how he'd treated her;
worse than I'd treat my dog. And yet when he came back, flush with money
and with flash friends, and he lifted his hand, she ran to him, _ran_!
Explain it if you can. I can't.

"That was later. I got my flat and passed my exam all right, and my
uncle in Fenchurch Street said I could have a job as soon as I liked.
But I thought I'd wait a bit. I was seeing London from a fresh angle,
you might say; seeing it as an outsider, as an alien. I had about a
hundred pounds to spend, and in a modest quiet way I en