ood absently fingering the pattern on the wallpaper. He
suddenly experienced a great craving for a pipe, but felt that the
etiquette of the situation hardly permitted him to smoke.

In a few moments Titania appeared at the head of the stairs in her
customary garb. She sat down on the landing. Aubrey felt that
everything was as bad as it could possibly be. If he could have seen
her face his embarrassment would at least have had some compensation.
But the light from a stair window shone behind her, and her features
were in shadow. She sat clasping her hands round her knees. The light
fell crosswise down the stairway, and he could see only a gleam of
brightness upon her ankle. His mind unconsciously followed its beaten
paths. "What a corking pose for a silk stocking ad!" he thought.
"Wouldn't it make a stunning full-page layout. I must suggest it to
the Ankleshimmer people."

"Well?" she said. Then she could not refrain from laughter, he looked
so hapless. She burst into an engaging trill. "Why don't you light
your pipe?" she said. "You look as doleful as the Kaiser."

"Miss Chapman," he said, "I'm afraid you think--I don't know what you
must think. But I broke in here this morning because I--well, I don't
think this is a safe place for you to be."

"So it seems. That's why I asked you to get me a taxi."

"There's something queer going on round this shop. It's not right for
you to be here alone this way. I was afraid something had happened to
you. Of course, I didn't know you were--were----"

Faint almond blossoms grew in her cheeks. "I was reading," she said.
"Mr. Mifflin talks so much about reading in bed, I thought I'd try it.
They wanted me to go with them to-day but I wouldn't. You see, if I'm
going to be a bookseller I've got to catch up with some of this
literature that's been accumulating. After they left I--I--well, I
wanted to see if this reading in bed is what it's cracked up to be."

"Where has Mifflin gone?" asked Aubrey. "What business has he got to
leave you here all alone?"

"I had Bock," said Titania. "Gracious, Brooklyn on Sunday morning
doesn't seem very perilous to me. If you must know, he and Mrs.
Mifflin have gone over to spend the day with father. I was to have
gone, too, but I wouldn't. What business is it of yours? You're as
bad as Morris Finsbury in The Wrong Box. That's what I was reading
when I heard the dog barking."

Aubrey began to grow nettled. "You see