Jimmy smiled complacently. He was a tall slim youth, well groomed about the head, doggy about the collar and tie, neatly dressed in Scotch tweed. His steady grey eyes and firm mouth, a little set and rigid, the impeccability of all about him, had stamped business upon his face as upon his clothes. 'Oh, I can't queer your pitch, Beauty,' he said a little grimly. 'I know you, you low dog.' Beauty laughed at the epithet. 'You've got no poetry about you, you North Country chaps, when a girl's as lovely as Victoria--' 'As lovely as Victoria,' he repeated a little louder as Victoria laid the cup of coffee before him. 'I know all about that,' said Victoria coolly, 'you don't come it over me like that, Nevy.' 'Cruel, cruel girl,' sighed Neville. 'Ah, if you only knew what I feel----' Victoria put her hand on the tablecloth and, for a moment, looked down into Neville's blue eyes. 'You oughtn't to be allowed out,' she pronounced, 'you aren't safe.' Jimmy got up as if he had been sitting on a suddenly released spring. 'Spoon away both of you,' he said smoothly, 'I'm going over to Parsons' to buy a racquet. Coming, Beauty? No, thought as much. Ta-ta, Vic. Excuse me. Steak and kidney pie is tenpence, not a shilling. Cheer oh! Beauty.' 'He's a rum one,' said Victoria, reflectively, as Jimmy passed the cash desk. 'Jimmy? oh, he's all right,' said Neville, 'but look here Vic, I want to speak to you. Let's go on the bust to-night. Dinner at the New Gaiety and the theatre. What d'you think?' Victoria looked at him for a second. 'You are a cure, Nevy,' she said. 'Then that's a bargain?' said Brown, eagerly snapping up her non-refusal. 'Meet me at Strand Tube Station half-past seven. You're off to-night, I know.' 'Oh you know, do you,' said Victoria smiling. 'Been pumping Bella I suppose, like the rest. She's a green one, that girl.' Neville looked up at her appealingly. 'Never mind how I know,' he said, 'say you'll come, we'll have a ripping time.' 'Well, p'raps I will and p'raps I won't,' said Victoria. 'Your bill, Sir? Yessir.' Victoria went to the next table. While she wrote she exchanged chaff with the customers. One had not raised his eyes from his book; one stood waiting for his bill; the other two, creatures about to be men, raised languid eyes from their coffee cups. One negligently puffed a jet of tobacco smoke upwards towards Victoria. 'Rotten,' she said briefly, 'I see you didn't buy those up West.' 'That's what _you_ think, Vic,' said the youth, 'fact is I got them in the Burlington. Have one?' 'No thanks. Don't want to be run in.' 'Have a match then.' The young man held up a two inch vesta. 'What price that, eh? pinched 'em from the Troc' last night.' 'You are a toff, Bertie,' said Victoria with unction. 'I'll have it as a keepsake.' She took it and stuck it in her belt. Bertie leaned over to his neighbour. 'It's a mash,' he said confidently. 'Take her to Kew,' said his friend, 'next stop Brighton.'