d so long as it is honest work my
sex doesn't count. If every one whom I have to see is as courteous to me
as Mr. Trent has been, I shall consider myself very lucky indeed."

"As who?" he cried.

She looked up at him in surprise. They were at the corner of the Strand,
but as though in utter forgetfulness of their whereabouts, he had
suddenly stopped short and gripped her tightly by the arm. She shook
herself free with a little gesture of annoyance.

"Whatever is the matter with you, Cecil? Don't gape at me like that, and
come along at once, unless you want to be left behind. Yes, we are very
short-handed and the chief let me go down to see Mr. Trent. He didn't
expect for a moment that I should get him to talk to me, but I did, and
he let me sketch the house. I am awfully pleased with myself I can tell
you."

The young man walked by her side for a moment in silence. She looked up
at him casually as they crossed the street, and something in his face
surprised her.

"Why, Cecil, what on earth is the matter with you?" she exclaimed.

He looked down at her with a new seriousness.

"I was thinking," he said, "how oddly things turn out. So you have been
down to interview Mr. Scarlett Trent for a newspaper, and he was civil
to you!"

"Well, I don't see anything odd about that," she exclaimed impatiently.
"Don't be so enigmatical. If you've anything to say, say it! Don't look
at me like an owl!"

"I have a good deal to say to you," he answered gravely. "How long shall
you be at the office?"

"About an hour--perhaps longer."

"I will wait for you!"

"I'd rather you didn't. I don't want them to think that I go trailing
about with an escort."

"Then may I come down to your flat? I have something really important to
say to you, Ernestine. It does not concern myself at all. It is wholly
about you. It is something which you ought to know."

"You are trading upon my curiosity for the sake of a tea," she laughed.
"Very well, about five o'clock."

He bowed and walked back westwards with a graver look than usual upon
his boyish face, for he had a task before him which was very little to
his liking. Ernestine swung open the entrance door to the "Hour", and
passed down the rows of desks until she reached the door at the further
end marked "Sub-Editor." She knocked and was admitted at once.

A thin, dark young man, wearing a pince-nez and smoking a cigarette,
looked up from his writing as she entered. He waved her to a s