"An unhappy example," Miss Dobell said, "of the artistic temperament, that
wonderful gift, gone wrong."

Falk had seen him often before at the "Dog and Pilchard," and had wondered
at first whether Annie Hogg was the attraction. It was soon clear,
however, that there was nothing in that. He never looked at the girl nor,
indeed, at any one else in the place. He simply sat there moodily staring
in front of him and drinking.

To-day it was clear that Falk had caught his attention. He looked across
the room at him with a queer defiant glance, something like Falk's own.
Once it seemed that he had made up his mind to come over and speak to him.

He half rose in his seat, then sank back again. But his eyes came round
again and again to the corner where Falk was sitting.

The Cathedral chimes had whispered twice in the room before Annie
returned.

"What is it you're wanting?" she asked.

"Come outside and speak to me."

"No, I can't do that. Father's watching."

"Well, will you meet me one evening and have a talk?"

"What about?"

"Several things."