farewell to my friend. Le Ros did not stand back. He stood clasping in
both hands the hands of the young American. `Stand back, sir, please!'
He obeyed, but quickly darted forward again to whisper some final
word. I think there were tears in her eyes. There certainly were tears
in his when, at length, having watched the train out of sight, he
turned round. He seemed, nevertheless, delighted to see me. He asked
me where I had been hiding all these years; and simultaneously repaid
me the half-crown as though it had been borrowed yesterday. He linked
his arm in mine, and walked me slowly along the platform, saying with
what pleasure he read my dramatic criticisms every Saturday.

I told him, in return, how much he was missed on the stage. `Ah, yes,'
he said, `I never act on the stage nowadays.' He laid some emphasis on
the word `stage,' and I asked him where, then, he did act. `On the
platform,' he answered. `You mean,' said I, `that you recite at
concerts?' He smiled. `This,' he whispered, striking his stick on the
ground, `is the platform I mean.' Had his mysterious prosperity
unhinged him? He looked quite sane. I begged him to be more explicit.

`I suppose,' he said presently, giving me a light for the cigar which
he had offered me, `you have been seeing a friend off?' I assented. He
asked me what I supposed he had been doing. I said that I had watched
him doing the same thing. `No,' he said gravely. `That lady was not a
friend of mine. I met her for the first time this morning, less than
half an hour ago, here,' and again he struck the platform with his
stick.

I confessed that I was bewildered. He smiled. `You may,' he said,
`have heard of the Anglo-American Social Bureau?' I had not. He
explained to me that of the thousands of Americans who annually pass