even then it was not sufficient to disturb the focus of his
thoughts.

"Tell me," she demanded, "what do you do? What is your
profession or work?"

"I am with a firm of auctioneers and estate agents," he answered
readily,--"Messrs. Dowling, Spence & Company the name is. Our
offices are in Waterloo Place."

"You find it interesting?"

"Of course," he answered. "Interesting? Why not? I work at
it."

"Are you a partner?"

"No," he admitted. "Six years ago I was a carpenter; then I
became an errand boy in Mr. Dowling's office I had to learn the
business, you see. To-day I am a sort of manager. In eighteen
months' time--perhaps before that if they do not offer me a
partnership--I shall start for myself."

Once more the subtlest of smiles flickered at the corners of her
lips.

"Do they know yet?" she asked, with faint irony.

"Not yet," he replied, with absolute seriousness. "They might
tell me to go, and I have a few things to learn yet. I would