e volumes back to Farwell when he called for them at
half-past six. He thanked her in half a dozen words and left.

Farwell continued regular in his attendance. He came in on the stroke of
one, left at half-past one exactly, lighting his pipe as he got up. He
never spoke to anyone; when Victoria stood before his table he looked at
her for a moment, gave his order and cast his eyes down to his book.

It was about three weeks after the incident of the books that he spoke
to Victoria. As he took up the bill of fare he said suddenly:

'Did you read the _Vindication_?'

'I did glance through it,' said Victoria, feeling, she did not know why,
acutely uncomfortable.

'Ah? interesting, isn't it? Pity it's so badly written. What do you
think of it?'

'Well, I hardly know,' said Victoria reflectively; 'I didn't have time
to read much; what I read seemed true.'

'You think that a recommendation, eh?' said Farwell, his lips parting
slightly. 'I'd have thought you saw enough truth about life here to like
lies.'

'No,' said Victoria, 'I don't care for lies. The nastier a thing is, the
better everybody should know it; then one day people will be ashamed.'

'Oh, an optimist!' sniggered Farwell. 'Bless you, my child. Give me
fillets of plaice, small white and cut.'

For several days after this Farwell took no notice of Victoria. He gave
his order and opened his book as before. Victoria made no advances. She
had talked him over with Betty, who had advised her to await events.

'You never know,' she had remarked, as a clinching argument.

A day or two later Victoria was startled by Farwell's arrival at
half-past six. This had never happened before. The smoking-room was
almost empty, as it was too late for teas and a little too early for
suppers. Farwell sat down at his usual table and ordered a small tea. As
Victoria returned with the cup he took out a book from under two others
and held it out.

'Look here,' he said a little nervously. 'I don't know whether you're
busy after hours, but perhaps you might like to read this.' The wrinkles
in his forehead expanded and dilated a little.

'Oh, thank you so much. I would like to read it,' said Victoria with the
ring of earnestness in her voice. She took the book; it was a battered
copy of _No. 5 John Street_.

'No. 5? What a queer title,' she said.

'Queer? not at all,' said Farwell. 'It only seems queer to you because
it is natural and you're not used to that. You're a numbe