of desperation seized her—she could not bear it—she would die if she never saw him again. She remembered in a panic that she did not know where to find him, that he had never told her where he lived, or given her any address. She lifted a trembling hand to the notes hidden beneath her frock; they were real enough—and then came another and more cruel thought. Supposing he had given them to her by way of farewell—her heart almost stopped beating. Such things did happen she knew in novelettes, if not out of them! Peg had told her one lurid story, in which…

"Good afternoon," said the Beggar Man beside her. Tears of relief started to her eyes. She was so glad to see him she could hardly speak; she stammered out: "I thought you were not coming any more—I thought you had gone away." He looked faintly surprised. "Am I late? I'm sorry. I would have been earlier if I had known you would be here." Faith smiled, and brushed the tears from her eyes. "It doesn't matter a bit now you've come," she said. She was quite happy again.

"But I've got something to tell you," said the Beggar Man reluctantly. He looked up and down the street. "Not a taxi to be seen, of course! Well, we must walk a little way." But he walked so quickly that Faith had almost to run to keep up with him. A great many people in the street seemed to know him, she noticed, and a policeman at the corner saluted smartly as they passed. She felt tremendously proud of the Beggar Man. She wished everyone could know that on Saturday he was going to marry her.

"We'll go in here," Nicholas said suddenly, and led the way into the same teashop where they had sat last night. He chose the same table and ordered tea. Faith looked round her with excited eyes. There was the same girl in the desk, staring at them curiously, and over there was the table where Peg had sat—empty now! And Faith turned her eyes away with a little thrill of foreboding. The Beggar Man was speaking.

"It's just this—I've got to go away…" Faith's eyes dilated. In an instant everything else was forgotten. "Go away!" she echoed blankly. "Yes—only on business—to America. I shall be gone seventeen days, and I go tomorrow." "Tomorrow!" Faith felt as if she was drowning. She did not know that she had turned pale to the lips. He went on speaking quickly. "I can't take you—I wish I could. You'd want lots of clothes for one thing, and it would take too long to get them, and to explain things to your mother and the rest of the world. But"—he leaned a little nearer to her over the table—"I've got a special licence in my pocket," he said. "Will you marry me before I go?" Faith put out both hands 

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