For several days after this Farwell took no notice of Victoria. He gave his order and opened his book as before. Victoria made no advances. She had talked him over with Betty, who had advised her to await events. 'You never know,' she had remarked, as a clinching argument. A day or two later Victoria was startled by Farwell's arrival at half-past six. This had never happened before. The smoking-room was almost empty, as it was too late for teas and a little too early for suppers. Farwell sat down at his usual table and ordered a small tea. As Victoria returned with the cup he took out a book from under two others and held it out. 'Look here,' he said a little nervously. 'I don't know whether you're busy after hours, but perhaps you might like to read this.' The wrinkles in his forehead expanded and dilated a little. 'Oh, thank you so much. I would like to read it,' said Victoria with the ring of earnestness in her voice. She took the book; it was a battered copy of _No. 5 John Street_. 'No. 5? What a queer title,' she said. 'Queer? not at all,' said Farwell. 'It only seems queer to you because it is natural and you're not used to that. You're a number in the P.R.R. aren't you? Just like the house you live in. And you're just number so and so; so am I. When we die fate shoves up the next number and it all begins over again.' 'That doesn't sound very cheerful, does it?' said Victoria. 'It isn't cheerful. It's merely a fact.' 'I suppose it is,' said Victoria. 'Nobody is ever missed.' Farwell looked at her critically. The platitude worried him a little; it was unexpected. 'Yes, exactly,' he stammered. 'Anyhow, you read it and let me know what you think of it.' Thereupon he took up another book and began to read. When he had gone Victoria showed her prize to Betty. 'You're getting on,' said Betty with a smile. 'You'll be Mrs Farwell one of these days, I suppose.' 'Don't be ridiculous, Betty,' snapped Victoria, 'why, I'd have to wash him.' 'You might as well wash a husband as a dish,' said Betty smoothly. 'Anyhow, the other girls are talking.' 'Let them talk,' said Victoria rather savagely, 'so long as they don't talk to me.' Betty took her hand gently. 'Sorry, Vic dear,' she said. 'You're not angry with me, are you?' 'No, of course not, you silly,' said Victoria laughing. 'There run away, or that old gent at the end'll take a fit.'