"You can't help yourself. The life you have chosen brings its
inevitable consequences."

"Chosen!" she repeated, with an indignant face. "How do you know I had
any choice in the matter? You have no right to speak contemptuously,
like that."

"Perhaps not. Certainly not. I should have said--the life you are
evidently leading."

"Well, I don't know that it makes so much difference. I suppose
everybody has a choice at all events between life and death, and you
mean that I ought to have killed myself rather than come to this.
That's my own business, however, and--"

A man had just passed behind them, and, catching the sound of the
girl's voice, had turned suddenly to look at her. She, at the same
moment, looked towards him, and stopped all at once in her speech.

"Are you walking up Regent Street?" she asked Waymark, in quite a
different voice. "Give me your arm, will you?"

Waymark complied, and they walked together in the direction she
suggested.

"What is the matter with you?" he asked. "Why are you trembling?"

"Don't look round. It's that fellow behind us; I know he is following."

"Somebody you know?"

"Yes, and hate. Worse than that, I'm afraid of him. Will you keep with
me till he's gone?"

"Of course I will. What harm can he do you though?"

"None that I know of. It's a strange stupid feeling I have. I can't
bear the sight of him. Don't look round!"

"Has he been a--a friend of yours?"

"No, no; not in that way. But he follows me about. He'll drive me out
of London, I know."

They had reached Piccadilly Circus.

"Look back now," she said, "and see if he's following still."

Waymark turned his head; the man was at a little distance behind. He
stopped when he saw himself observed, and stood on the edge of the
pavement, tapping his boot with his cane. He was a tall and rather
burly fellow, well dressed, with a clean-shaven face.

"Let's make haste round the corner," the girl said, "and get into the
restaurant. You must have some supper with me."

"I should be very happy, had I a penny in my pocket."

"See how easily good deeds are forgotten," returned the other, laughing
in the old way. "Now comes my turn to give proof of generosity. Come
and have some supper all the same."

"No; that's out of the question."

"Fiddlestick Surely you won't desert me when I ask your protection?
Come along, and pay me back another time, if you like."

They walked round the corner, then the girl started and