n banging on the little table. "Look at them,
look at them!" His eyes wandered angrily about the room, wherein sat
some few who had passed though the mills of gentility. "What do they
know of life? Where are their souls and sympathies? They haven't any.
I'd like to see their blood flow, the silly brutes."

Nedda looked at them with alarm and curiosity. They seemed to her
somewhat like everybody she knew. She said timidly: "Do you think OUR
blood ought to flow, too?"

Mr. Cuthcott relapsed into twinkles. "Rather! Mine first!"

'He IS human!' thought Nedda. And she got up: "I'm afraid I ought to go
now. It's been awfully nice. Thank you so very much. Good-by!"

He shook her firm little hand with his frail thin one, and stood smiling
till the restaurant door cut him off from her view.

The streets seemed so gorgeously full of life now that Nedda's head
swam. She looked at it all with such absorption that she could not tell
one thing from another. It seemed rather long to the Tottenham Court
Road, though she noted carefully the names of all the streets she
passed, and was sure she had not missed it. She came at last to one
called POULTRY. 'Poultry!' she thought; 'I should have remembered
that--Poultry?' And she laughed. It was so sweet and feathery a laugh
that the driver of an old four-wheeler stopped his horse. He was old and
anxious-looking, with a gray beard and deep folds in his red cheeks.

"Poultry!" she said. "Please, am I right for the Tottenham Court Road?"

The old man answered: "Glory, no, miss; you're goin' East!"

'East!' thought Nedda; 'I'd better take him.' And she got in. She sat
in the four-wheeler, smiling. And how far this was due to Chardonnet she
did not consider. She was to love and not worry. It was wonderful! In
this mood she was put down, still smiling, at the Tottenham Court Road
Tube, and getting out her purse she prepared to pay the cabman. The
fare would be a shilling, but she felt like giving him two. He looked so
anxious and worn, in spite of his red face. He took them, looked at her,
and said: "Thank you, miss; I wanted that."

"Oh!" murmured Nedda, "then please take this, too. It's all I happen to
have, except my Tube fare."

The old man took it, and water actually ran along his nose.

"God bless yer!" he said. And taking up his whip, he drove off quickly.

Rather choky, but still glowing, Nedda descended to her train. It was
not till she was walking to the Spaniard's Road that