"Then you're in luck. This is the new collector, d'you see."

"I've been a-looking at him," said Slimy, whose one eye, for all that,
had seemed busy all the time in quite a different direction. "I seen
him somewheres, but I can't just make out where."

"Not many people you haven't seen, I think," said Abraham, nodding, as
he went out of the room. Waymark followed, and was glad to get into the
open streets again.

CHAPTER XIII

A MAN-TRAP

Julian Casti was successful in his application for the post of
dispenser at the All Saints' Hospital, and shortly after Easter he left
the shop in Oxford Street, taking lodgings in Beaufort Street, Chelsea.
His first evening there was spent in Waymark's company, and there was
much talk of the progress his writing would make, now that his hours of
liberty were so considerably extended. For the first time in his life
he was enjoying the sense of independence. Waymark talked of moving
from Walcot Square, in order to be nearer to his friend. He, too, was
possessed of more freedom than had been the case for a long time, and
his head was full of various fancies. They would encourage each other
in their work, afford by mutual appreciation that stimulus which is so
essential to the young artist.

But in this world, though man may propose, it is woman who disposes.
And at this moment, Julian's future was being disposed of in a manner
he could not well have foreseen.

Harriet Smales had heard with unconcealed pleasure of his leaving the
shop and taking lodgings of his own. She had been anxious to come and
see the rooms, and, though the following Sunday was appointed for her
visit, she could not wait so long, but, to her cousin's surprise,
presented herself at the house one evening, and was announced by the
landlady, who looked suspicious. Julian, with some nervousness,
hastened to explain that the visitor was a relative, which did not in
the least alter his landlady's preconceived ideas. Harriet sat down and
looked about her with a sigh of satisfaction. If she could but have
such a home! Girls had no chance of getting on as men did. If only her
father could have lived, things would have been different. Now she was
thrown on the world, and had to depend upon her own hard work. Then she
gave way to an hysterical sob, and Julian--who felt sure that the
landlady was listening at the door--could only beg her nervously not to
be so down-hearted.

"Whatever success I have," he said t