girl who isn't an idiot can very soon know all about the men who
interest her; but it's devilish difficult to get much insight into
_them_--until you've hopelessly committed yourself--won't you
smoke? I've something to tell you, and I can't talk to a man who
isn't smoking, when my own pipe's lit."

Hilliard obeyed, and for a few moments they puffed in silence,
twilight thickening about them.

"Three or four months ago," resumed Narramore, "I was told one day
--at business--that a lady wished to see me. I happened to have
the room to myself, and told them to show the lady in. I didn't in
the least know who it could be, and I was surprised to see rather a
good-looking girl--not exactly a lady--tallish, and with fine
dark eyes--what did you say?"

"Nothing."

"A twinge of gout?"

"Go on."

Narramore scrutinised his friend, who spoke in an unusual tone.

"She sat down, and began to tell me that she was out of work--
wanted a place as a bookkeeper, or something of the kind. Could I
help her? I asked her why she came to _me_. She said she had heard
of me from someone who used to be employed at our place. That was
flattering. I showed my sense of it. Then I asked her name, and she
said it was Miss Madeley."