200 
THE STRAND MAGAZINE . 
‘ 4 Get this dispatched. And — I shall he out 
until — until I come back.’" 
Two hours later they were lunching at 
Romano’s. This had come about naturally 
enough. After all, the girl had been glad of 
his guidance at the Tower, and had evinced 
a desire for information respecting other 
“ sights ” of the great city wherein she was a 
stranger. When one o’clock came their con- 
versation seemed to have only begun, where- 
fore Timothy had, not without diffidence, 
proposed luncheon together, and she, with a 
veiled glance at his grey hair, had graciously 
accepted the invitation. 
Florence, in spite of her narrow up-bringing, 
had met some smarter men — smarter in 
every sense of the word than her present 
host. Yet Timothy’s slowness, while it 
secretly amused her, was somehow attractive 
to her, while his undisguised anxiety on her 
behalf touched rather than irritated her. 
Towards the end of the meal the conversa- 
tion flagged. With the arrival of coffee it 
failed so far as Timothy was concerned. 
At his request the waiter had brought her 
a weekly publication called London Amuse- 
ments , and while she went over the list of 
plays with a pencil, Timothy, forgetting to 
smoke the twopenny cigarette he had ordered, 
regarded her with a curious longing in those 
brown eyes of his. 
But he got the words out at last : — 
“ Miss Gale, are you going to begin to- 
night ? ” 
“ Yes,” she smiled. “ I’ve decided to go 
to the Shaftesbury. Unless you can recom- 
mend something better.” 
“ I don’t even know what the present plays 
are,” he said. “ It is many years since 1 was 
in a theatre.” 
“ Really ? Then I’ll go to the Shaftesbury 
and see Marie Tempest.” 
Under the cloth Timothy’s fingers were 
knit together. 
“ Miss Gale, let me take you to the Shaftes- 
bury to-night. For your uncle’s — for my 
own conscience’s sake. Regard me as — as 
a servant if you like, but let me accompany 
you. Or let me arrange with one of my 
sisters ” 
With a faint gesture of distress she stopped 
him. 
“ Mr. Wells,” she said, “ you make it very 
difficult for me. You make me seem a most 
ungracious person.” 
“ 1 don’t mean to do that,” he faltered. 
“ But I can’t endure the idea of your going 
to those places alone. At least you will 
permit me to accompany you to the door — 
restaurant and theatre — and meet you coming 
out ? I promise not to interfere with you 
otherwise. Say you will permit that much, 
Miss Gale.” 
His earnestness was too much for her. 
The frown passed from her face. 
“ You are very good,” she said, simply. 
“ T shall be delighted to go with you to the 
theatre to-night, Mr. Wells, after you have 
dined with me at my hotel.” 
Overjoyed as he was, he demurred at dining 
as her guest at the Savoy. 
“ Let me take you to one of the other 
restaurants,” he began. 
But she was firm. 
“ I can’t give away the whole of my 
independence,” she declared. “ Besides ” 
— her eyes danced — “ I am not so sure but 
that your ideas, Mr. Wells, are even less 
conventional than my own. Now,” begin- 
ning to put on her gloves, “ I must not keep 
you longer from your business.” 
“ What are you going to do this after- 
noon ? ” he inquired. 
“ Shopping, since the rain has stopped.” 
“ Couldn’t I be of any use in ” 
“ Oh, indeed, no ! ” she cried, now openly 
amused. “ But I shall promise to be back at 
the hotel before it is quite dark. And I shall 
expect you at seven.” 
We need not closely follow Timothy through 
the hours of that afternoon. He returned to 
his office, where he gave all the attention he 
could to business and the rest to the clock. 
At five-thirty he was in his lodgings. He 
spent a bad half-hour over the old dress suit 
that he had thought never to wear again, 
though the worst thing about it was its 
unfashionable cut. When garbed in it he 
was by no means unpresentable. He was 
struggling with his tie when the landlady 
knocked and informed him that his chop was 
ready. To this day the landlady is prepared 
to affirm that his reply was, “ Chop be 
damned ! I’m dining out.” And possibly 
she had heard aright, for Mr. Wells, the next 
moment, informed himself apologetically that 
he hadn’t used such a word for years. Also, 
before going out he apologized to the landlady 
and begged her to accept the chop for her 
own use. 
Later, with considerable trepidation, he 
entered the Savoy. He feared Miss Gale 
might have regretted her invitation. But 
she came to meet him with so frank a welcome 
that he took heart. According to the Savoy 
standard her gown may have been an ordinary 
