on the point of calling the man away, when the
door opened a little. "Right you are, then," said the man, with a
knowing gleam in his eyes.

"Good evening--won't you come in?" A young girl, neatly dressed, held
the door open for Olof with a smile.

He went through the passage into a little parlour. The heavy-scented
air of the place was at once soothing and exciting to his senses.

"Sit down, won't you? But what are you looking so serious about? Has
your girl thrown you over--or what?"

"Now, how on earth did you guess that?" cried Olof in sudden relief,
thankful that the girl was so bright and talkative. He felt all at
once that he too must talk--of anything, nothing, or he could not stay
in the place a minute.

"Guess? Why, that's easy enough. They always come here when there's
anything wrong with--the others. And there's always something wrong
with some of them. Was she pretty?" The girl looked at him with a
mischievous gleam in her eyes.

"Pretty?--yes, that she was, pretty as you, nearly."

"Puh!" laughed the girl. "And she kissed you, I suppose?"

"No. Wouldn't even kiss me."

"Aha. So you made love to another girl, and then she threw you
over--that was it, I'm sure."

"Right again! Yes--made love to another girl--that was it. And quite
enough too."

"Oh, it's always the way with--well, that sort of girls. They don't
understand how to make love a bit. There's heaps of love to be had, if
you only know where to look for it."

They both laughed--the girl in easy, teasing gaiety, Olof still
thankful at finding it so easy to suit himself to his company.

"What'll you have to drink? Sherry, madeira, or stout, perhaps? I like
sherry best."

"Let's have all three!" cried Olof.

"That'll be twenty, please." He gave her the money and she slipped
from the room.

Olof looked round. How was this going to end? He was thankful at any
rate that the room was neatly, almost tastefully furnished, and that
the girl was so easy to talk to.

The bottles and glasses were brought in. "Here's to us both!" cried
the girl, lifting her glass with an enticing glance.

They drank--it was the first time Olof had ever tasted wine. And all
the bitterness and unrest in his soul seemed drowned at once.

"I say--is this your first time?" The girl explained her question with
a meaning glance.

"Yes." The word stuck in his throat. "Have some more to drink," he
added hastily.

"That's right!" The glasses rang. "Got any ciga