. We'll buy something at the bookstall to take back.'

As they turned again towards the platform, Monica was confronted by a
face which she at once recognized, though it had changed noticeably in
the eighteen months since she last saw it. The person was Miss Eade,
her old acquaintance at the shop. But the girl no longer dressed as in
those days; cheap finery of the 'loudest' description arrayed her form,
and it needed little scrutiny to perceive that her thin cheeks were
artificially reddened. The surprise of the meeting was not Monica's
only reason for evincing embarrassment. Seeing that Miss Eade was
uncertain whether to make a sign of acquaintance, she felt it would be
wiser to go by. But this was not permitted. As they were passing each
other the girl bent her head and whispered--

'I want to speak to you--just a minute.'

Virginia perceived the communication, and looked in surprise at her
sister.

'It's one of the girls from Walworth Road,' said Monica. 'Just walk on;
I'll meet you at the bookstall.'

'But, my dear, she doesn't look respectable--'

'Go on; I won't be a minute.'

Monica motioned to Miss Eade, who followed her towards a more retired
spot.

'You have left the shop?'

'Left--I should think so. Nearly a year ago. I told you I shouldn't
stand it much longer. Are you married?'

'Yes.'

Monica did not understand why the girl should eye her so suspiciously.

'You are?' said Miss Eade. 'Nobody that I know, I suppose?'

'Quite a stranger to you.'

The other made an unpleasant click with her tongue, and looked vaguely
about her. Then she remarked inconsequently that she was waiting the
arrival of her brother by train.

'He's a traveller for a West-end shop; makes five hundred a year. I
keep house for him, because of course he's a widower.'

The 'of course' puzzled Monica for a moment, but she remembered that it
was an unmeaning expletive much used by people of Miss Eade's
education. However, the story did not win her credence; by this time
her disagreeable surmises had too much support.

'Was there anything you wished particularly to speak about?'

'You haven't seen nothing of Mr. Bullivant?'

To what a remote period of her life this name seemed to recall Monica!
She glanced quickly at the speaker, and again detected suspicion in her
eyes.

'I have neither seen nor heard of him since I left Walworth Road. Isn't
he still there?'

'Not he. He went about the same time you did, and nobo