to a policeman.

"All right, constable, I'll see her home," she heard him say. She saw the policeman salute and stand back, and the next moment the car was moving slowly away from the kerb.

Faith sat up with a frightened gasp, the colour coming back to her white cheeks.

"Where are you taking me? Oh, I'd much rather walk."

The big man was sitting opposite to her now, and his eyes were kind as they noted her distress.

"It's all right," he said cheerily. "You're not fit to walk. Just tell me where you live and I'll drive you straight home. Feel better?"

"Yes." She began a trembling apology. "It was the sun, I suppose; it's been so hot all day."

"Do you work in the city?"

"Yes—at Heeler's."

"Oh, that place!" There was a note of disparagement in the man's voice. "Now tell me where you live?" he said again.

She told him reluctantly. Poplar and its poor surroundings seemed so terribly far removed from this man and the magnificence of the car in which they were driving.

He repeated her directions to the chauffeur and the car quickened its speed. Faith was feeling almost herself again. The air beat on her pale cheeks and stirred the soft hair on her forehead. She stole a shy glance at the man opposite to her.

Not very young—quite forty, she decided—not very good-looking. Big and burly, a little clumsy in build, the fastidious might have said, but strong and manly, with a square jaw that spoke of strength and determination, and humorous grey eyes set rather deeply in his brown face. His soft hat was worn with a rather Colonial tilt.

He was perfectly aware of her scrutiny, and after a moment he asked whimsically:

"Well, what do you make of me?"

Faith flushed to the roots of her hair.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she stammered. "I know it was rude—I didn't mean anything."

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