lie when he had asked her if she were his old playmate.

As she walked with him, she bitterly reproached herself for her
falsehood; she also tried to hide from herself that her rudeness had
been largely assumed in order to conceal her growing regard for him.
It would seem another world when he was not at her side to protect
her from possible harm.

As they passed Burlington House, a beggar whined his tale of woe in
their ears. Mavis saw Windebank give the man something, the
handsomeness of which made the recipient open his eyes. A flower-
seller, who had witnessed the generous act, immediately pestered
Windebank to buy of her wares, an example at once followed by others
of her calling. He gave them all money, at which some of them forced
their wired flowers upon him, whilst others overwhelmed him with
thanks.

"Don't thank me," he protested, as he glanced towards Mavis, who was
the recipient of countless blessings, mechanically uttered.

Beggars and loafers, with their keen scent for prey, were about him
in less time than it takes to tell. He gave largely, generously; he
was soon the centre of a struggling, unsavoury crowd, which was
growing larger every minute.

"Whatever are you doing?" protested Mavis.

"Wasn't it your wish?" he asked.

"Not this. Please, please get me out and away."