"I'm so sorry you've a souvenir of any kind," said Nan quickly, with the
spontaneousness which was part of her charm.

"Now that's very nice of you," answered the man. "There's no reason why
you should burden yourself with the woes of a perfect stranger."

"I don't call you a perfect stranger," replied Nan serenely. "I call you
a Good Samaritan."

"I'm generally known as Peter Mallory," he interjected modestly.

"And you know my name. I think that constitutes an introduction."

"Thank you," he said simply.

Nan laughed.

"The thanks are all on my side," she answered. "Here we are at
Paddington, and it's entirely due to you that I shall catch my train."

The taxi pulled up and stood panting.

"Shares, please!" said Nan, when he had paid the driver.

For an instant a look of swift negation flashed across Mallory's face,
then he replied composedly:

"Your share is two shillings."

Nan tendered a two-shilling piece, blessing him in her heart for