The young man paused to watch the effect of his narrative,
especially of the last words. Nancy returned his gaze with frank
astonishment.

'What sort of lady was it?' she asked.

'Oh, a great swell. Somebody in the best society--you could see
that at once.'

'But how old?'

'Well, I couldn't tell exactly; about forty, I should think.'

'Oh!--Go on.'

'One couldn't refuse, you know; I was only too glad to go to a house
in the West End. She opened the carriage-door from the inside, and I
got in, and off we drove. I felt awkward, of course, but after all I
was decently dressed, and I suppose I can behave like a gentleman,
and--well, she sat looking at me and smiling, and I could only
smile back. Then she said she must apologise for behaving so
strangely, but I was very young, and she was an old woman,--one
couldn't call her that, though,--and she had taken this way of
renewing her acquaintance with me. Renewing? But I didn't remember
to have ever met her before, I said. "Oh, yes, we have met before,
but you were a little child, a baby in fact, and there's no wonder
you don't remember me?" And then she said, "I knew your mother very
well."