gravely.

'Oh, I think you could. She would like it.'

Monica looked rather frightened at her boldness, and quickly added--

'Now I must say good-bye. There comes the bus.'

Bullivant turned desperately in that direction. He saw there was as yet
no inside passenger.

'Do allow me to go a short way with you?' burst from his lips. 'I
positively don't know how I shall spend the morning.'

Monica had signalled to the driver, and was hurrying forward. Bullivant
followed, reckless of consequences. In a minute both were seated within.

'You will forgive me?' pleaded the young fellow, remarking a look of
serious irritation on his companion's face. 'I must be with you a few
minutes longer.'

'I think when I have begged you not to--'

'I know how bad my behaviour must seem. But, Miss Madden, may I not be
on terms of friendship with you?'

'Of course you may--but you are not content with that.'

'Yes--indeed--I _will_ be content--'

'It's foolish to say so. Haven't you broken the understanding three or
four times?'

The bus stopped for a passenger, a man, who mounted to the top.

'I am so sorry,' murmured Bullivant, as the starting horses jolted them
together. 'I try not to worry you. Think of my position. You have told
me that there is no one else who--whose rights I ought to respect.
Feeling as I do, it isn't in human nature to give up hope!'

'Then will you let me ask you a rude question?'

'Ask me _any_ question, Miss Madden.'

'How would it be possible for you to support a wife?'

She flushed and smiled. Bullivant, dreadfully discomposed, did not move
his eyes from her.

'It wouldn't be possible for some time,' he answered in a thick voice.
'I have nothing but my wretched salary. But every one hopes.'

'What reasonable hope have you?' Monica urged, forcing herself to be
cruel, because it seemed the only way of putting an end to this
situation.

'Oh, there are so many opportunities in our business. I could point to
half a dozen successful men who were at the counter a few years ago. I
may become a walker, and get at least three pounds a week. If I were
lucky enough to be taken on as a buyer, I might make--why, some make
many hundreds a year--many hundreds.'

'And you would ask me to wait on and on for one of these wonderful
chances?'

'If I could move your feelings, Miss Madden,' he began, with a certain
dolorous dignity; but there his voice broke. He saw too plainly that
the girl had neither fa