should always want to meet and to talk
to one another of things that only one of them could understand.

"Why does he bother with me?" Cosgrave thought.

But he was sorry for Robert, partly because he guessed that he was hungry
and partly because he knew that he was not in love.

"I wish you'd come along too," he said a little breathlessly; "I want you
to meet her, you know--for us all to be friends together--just a quiet
supper--and my treat, of course."

It was very transparent. He tried to look up at his companion boldly and
innocently. But the light from the street lamp fell into his strange
blue eyes, with their look of young and anxious hopefulness, and made
them blink. Robert Stonehouse laughed. He knew what was in Cosgrave's
mind, and it seemed to him half comic and half pathetic and rather
irritating.

"I don't suppose you have enough to pay for supper, anyway," he said
roughly, "or you'll go without your lunch to-morrow. Don't be an idiot.
Look after yourself and I'll look after myself. Besides, if you think
I'm not going to have a square meal to-night you're enormously mistaken.
I'm going to dine well--where you'll never Set your foot, not until
you're earning more than 250 pounds a year, at any rate."

"Word of honour?"

"Oh, word of honour, of course."

A shy relief came into the pinched and freckled face.

"Oh, well then--but I do want you to meet all the same; you see, she'd
like it--she knows all about you. I'm always bragging about you.
Perhaps I could bring her round--if Miss Forsyth wouldn't mind--if she's
well enough."

Robert Stonehouse half turned away, as though shrinking from an
unwelcome, painful touch.

"She's all right."

"Then may we come? I'm not afraid of Miss Forsyth. She's an
understanding person. She won't think people common because of their
aitches. Give her my love, won't you, Robert. And good night."

"Oh, good night!" He added quickly, sullenly: "You look blue with cold.
Why don't you wear a decent coat? It's idiotic!"

"Because my coat isn't decent. I don't want her to see me shabby. And I
like to pretend I'm rather a strong, dashing fellow who doesn't mind
things. Besides, look at yourself!"

"I'm different."

"You needn't rub it in." He was gay now with an expectation that bubbled
up in him like a fountain. He made as though to salute Robert solemnly
and then remembered and clutched at his wind-blown hair instead. "Oh, my
hat! Well, it w