"Precisely a shilling--and a copper or two," he answered.

"And--if that cheque doesn't arrive?" she suggested.

"Maybe I'll be walking round to Praed Street again," he said, laughing.
"I've a bit of what you call property, yet."

The girl nodded, and turned towards a side-walk that led across the
Gardens.

"All right," she said. "Don't think me inquisitive--I don't like to think
of--of people like you being hard up: I'm not wrapped up in business as
much as all that. Let's talk of something else--tell me what you write
about."

Lauriston spent the rest of that afternoon with Zillah, strolling about
Kensington Gardens. He had lived a very lonely life since coming to
London, and it was a new and pleasant experience to him to have an
intelligent companion to talk to. There was a decided sense of
exhilaration within him when he finally left her; as for Zillah, she went
homewards in a very thoughtful mood, already conscious that she was more
than half in love with this good-looking lad who had come so strangely
into her life. And at the corner of Praed Street she ran up against Mr.
Melky Rubinstein, and button-holed him, and for ten minutes talked
seriously to him. Melky, who had good reasons of his own for keeping in
his cousin's favour, listened like a lamb to all she had to say, and went
off promising implicit obedience to her commandments.

"Zillah ain't half gone on that chap!" mused Melky, as he pursued his way.
"Now, ain't it extraordinary that a girl who'll come into a perfect