She led the way into the Strand. At no great distance from Temple
Bar she turned off into a small court.

"This is a queer place to live in," observed Waymark, as he looked
up at the dark houses.

"Don't be afraid," was the good-humoured reply, as she opened the
door with a latch-key. They went up two flights of stairs, then
entered a room where a bright fire was burning. Waymark's conductor
held a piece of paper to the flame, and lit a lamp. It was a small,
pleasantly furnished sitting-room.

"Do you play?" Waymark asked, seeing an open piano, with music upon
it.

"I only wish I could. My landlady's daughter is giving me lessons.
But I think I'm getting on. Listen to me do this exercise."

She sat down, and, with much conscientious effort, went over some
simple bars. Then she looked up at her companion and caught him
smiling.

"Well," she exclaimed, in a pet, "you must begin at the beginning in
everything, mustn't you? Come and let me hear what you can do."

"Not even so much."

"Then don't laugh at a poor girl doing her best. You have such a
queer smile too; it seems both ill-natured and good-natured at the