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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
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