was something piquant in the fact of his not daring.

The girl, after a short pause, looked up; perhaps, though not so
susceptible as he, she was not insensible to the fact that Max was young
and handsome, well dressed, a little in love with her, and altogether
different from the types of male humanity most common to Limehouse.

"If," she suggested at last, with some hesitation, "you really think it
better to see my grandmother, she will be down very soon. I'm going to
make some tea; and you could wait, if you liked, in the next room."

"I should be delighted," said Max.

Off came the gloves; and as the girl tripped quickly into the adjoining
room, he followed with alacrity.

"Mind," cried she suddenly, as she turned from the fireplace and stood
by the table in an attitude of warning, "it is at your own risk, you
know, that you stay. You can guess that the people who belong to a
hole-and-corner place like this are not the sort you're accustomed to
meet at West-End dinner tables, nor yet at an archbishop's garden-party.
But as you've stayed so long, it will be better for me if you stay till
you have seen Granny, as she must have heard me talking to you by this
time."

Now Max, in the interest of his conversation with the girl, had
forgotten all about less pleasant subjects. Now that they were suddenly
recalled to his mind, he felt uneasy at the idea of the unseen but
ever-watchful "Granny," who might be listening to every word he uttered,
noting every glance he threw at the girl.