Mrs. White will present her bill. I
have one shilling and sevenpence halfpenny left. I have two days in
which to earn nearly thirty shillings--that is with no dinners, and
get a situation. I fancy that this is a little more than playing at
Bohemianism."

"So far," she continued, eyeing hungrily the last morsel of roll which
lay upon her plate, "my only chance of occupation has lain with a
photographer who engaged me on the spot and insulted me in half an
hour. What beasts men are! I cannot typewrite, my three stories are
still wandering round, two milliners have refused me as a lay figure
because business was so bad. I am no use for a clerk, because I do not
understand shorthand. After all, I fancy that I shall have to apply
for a situation as a nursery governess who understands French. Faugh!"

She took up the last morsel of roll, and held it delicately between
her long slim fingers. Then her white teeth gleamed, and her excuse
for remaining any longer before that little marble table was gone. She
rose, paid her bill, and turned westwards.

She walked with long swinging steps, scorning the thought of buses or
the tube. If ever she felt fatigue in these long tramps which had
already taken her half over London, she never admitted it. Asking her
way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and
crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. Here she walked more
slowly, looking constantly at the notices in the shop windows. One she
entered and met with a sharp rebuff, which she appeared to receive
unmoved. But when she reached the pavement outside her teeth were
clenched, and she carried herself unconsciously an inch or so higher.
It was just then that she came face to face with Nigel Ennison.

He was walking listlessly along, well-dressed, _debonnair_,
good-looking. Directly he saw Anna he accosted her. His manner was
deferential, even eager. Anna, who was disposed to be sharply
critical, could find no fault with it.

"How fortunate I am, Miss Pellissier! All day I have been hoping that
I might run across you. You got my note?"

"I certainly received a note," Anna admitted.

"You were going to answer it?"

"Certainly not!" she said deliberately.

He looked at her with an expression of comical despair.

"What have I done, Miss Pellissier?" he pleaded. "We were good friends
in Paris, weren't we? You made me all sorts of promises, we planned
no end of nice things, and then--without a word to any o