l woman with a clear white skin,
thick hair, red lips.

'Well,' he said with a laugh, 'can I invite you to lunch with me?'

'You may,' she said. 'I'll have a small coffee and . . . a sunny side
up.'

Farwell laughed and signed to Nelly. After a minute he attracted her
attention and gave the order without Nelly taking any interest in
Farwell's guest. It might be rather extraordinary, but her supervisory
duties were all-absorbent. When she returned, however, she stole a
curious look at Victoria while placing before her the poached egg on
toast. She looked at her again, and her eyes dilated.

'Law,' she said. 'Vic!'

'Yes, Nelly, how are you?' Victoria put out her gloved hand. Nelly took
it wonderingly.

'I'm all right,' she answered slowly. 'Just been made head waitress,'
she added with some unction. Her eyes were roving over Victoria's
clothes, valuing them like an expert.

'Congratulations,' said Victoria. 'Glad you're getting on.'

'I see _you're_ getting on,' said Nelly, with a touch of sarcasm.

'So, so, things aren't too bad.' Victoria looked up. The women's eyes
crossed like rapiers; Nelly's were full of suspicion. The conversation
stopped then, for Nelly was already in request in half a dozen quarters.

'She knows,' said Victoria smoothly.

'Of course,' said Farwell. 'Trust a woman to know the worst about
another and to show it up. Every little helps in a contest such as
life.'

Farwell then questioned her as to her situation, but she refused him all
details.

'No,' she said, 'not here. There's Nelly watching us, and Maud has just
been told. Betty's been shifted, I know, and I suppose Mary and Jennie
are gone, but there's the manageress and some of the girls upstairs.
I've nearly done. Let me return the invitation. Dine with me
to-night. . .' She was going to say 'at home,' but changed her mind to
the prudent course. . . . 'at, well, anywhere you like. Whereabouts do
you live, Mr Farwell?'

'I live in the Waterloo Road,' said Farwell, 'an artery named after the
playing fields of Eton.'

'I don't know it well,' said Victoria, 'but I seem to remember an
Italian place near Waterloo Station. Suppose you meet me at the south
end of Waterloo Bridge at seven?'

'It will do admirably,' said the man. 'I suppose you want to go now?
Well, you've put out my habits, but I'll come too.'

They went out; the last Victoria saw of the P.R.R. was the face of the
cook through the hole in the partition, red, swe