hat?" Waymark asked. "Where on earth does she come from?"

"She's from Weymouth. They talk queerly there, don't they? She lives in
the house, and goes to business. Sally and I are great friends."

"Do you come from the country?" Waymark inquired, as she sat down in an
easy-chair and watched the cat eating.

"No, I'm a London girl. I've never been out of the town since I was a
little child."

"And how old are you now?"

"Guess."

"Not twenty."

"Eighteen a month ago. All my life before me, isn't it?"

Waymark kept silence for a moment.

"How do you like my room?" she asked suddenly, looking round.

"It's very comfortable. I always thought there were nothing but
business places all about here. I should rather like to live in the
very middle of the town, like this."

"Should you? That's just what I like. Oh, how I enjoy the noise and the
crowds! I should be ill if I had to live in one of those long, dismal
streets, where the houses are all the same shape, and costermongers go
bawling about all day long. I suppose you live in a place like that?"

"Very much the same."

In taking his handkerchief out, Waymark just happened to feel a book in
his overcoat-pocket. He drew it forth to see what it was, having
forgotten entirely that he had been carrying the volume about with him
since morning.

"What's that?" asked the girl. "Will you let me look? Is it a tale?
Lend it me; will you?"

"Do you read books?"

"Oh yes; why not? Let me keep this till you come again. Is this your
name written here--Osmond Waymark?"

"Yes. And what is your name?"

"Ida Starr."

"Ida? That's a beautiful name. I was almost afraid to ask you, for fear
it should be something common."

"And why shouldn't I have a common name?"

"Because you are by no means a common girl."

"You think not? Well, perhaps you are right. But may I keep the book
till I see you again?"

"I had better give it you, for it isn't very likely you will see me
again."

"Why not?"

"My acquaintance would be anything but profitable to you. I often
haven't enough money to live on, and--"

Ida stooped down and played for a few moments with Grim, who turned
over lazily on to his back, and stroked his mistress's hands delicately
with his soft white paws.

"But you are a gentleman," she said, rising again, and rustling over
the pages of the book she still held. "Are you in the city?"

"The Lord deliver me!"

"What then?"

"I am nothing."

"Then you m