"And I spent mine all alone," he said ruefully. "No friends, no pudding, no nothing." She looked at him compassionately. "I suppose you live in rooms? It must be very lonely." "Oh!" he returned lightly, yet seizing with eager satisfaction the sympathy she offered, "it's nothing when you're used to it. This makes my third Christmas in London, and none of them has been particularly uproarious. Fortunately there was the skating this year. I was on the Serpentine nearly all day." Then she asked him if skating was easy to learn, because she had been wanting to try for years, but had never had opportunity. He answered that it was quite easy, if one were not afraid. "I'm going your way," he said, as they both got off at Piccadilly Circus, and they walked along Coventry Street together. The talk flagged; to rouse it Richard questioned her about the routine of the restaurant,--a subject on which she spoke readily, and with a certain sense of humour. When they reached the Crabtree,-- "Why, it's been painted!" Richard exclaimed. "It looks very swagger, indeed, now." "Yes, my! doesn't it? And it's beautiful inside, too. You must come in sometime." "I will," he said with emphasis. She shook his hand quite vigorously, and their eyes met with a curious questioning gaze. He smiled to himself as he walked down Chandos Street; his dejection had mysteriously vanished, and he even experienced a certain uplifting of spirit. It occurred to him that he had never at all understood Miss Roberts before. How different she was outside the restaurant! Should he go to the Crabtree for lunch that day, or should he allow a day or two to elapse? He decidedly prudently to wait. He debated whether he should mention the meeting to Jenkins, and said on the whole that he would not do so. But he found Jenkins surprisingly urbane, and without conscious volition he was soon saying,-- "Guess who I came down with on the bus this morning." Jenkins gave it up. "Laura Roberts;" and then, seeing no look of comprehension on Jenkins' face, "You know, the cashier at the Crabtree." "Oh--_her_!" The stress was a little irritating. "_I_ saw her about a fortnight ago," Jenkins said. "At the Crabtree?" "Yes. Did she say anything to you about me?" The youth smiled. "No. Why?" "Nothing. We had a talk, and I mashed her a bit,--that's all." "Ah, my boy, you won't get far with her." "Oh, sha'n't I? I could tell you a thing or two _re_ Laura Roberts, if I liked." Although Jenkins' remark was characteristic, and Richard knew well enough that there was nothing behind his words, yet his mind reverted instantly to the stories connecting Miss Roberts with Mr. Aked. "Don't gas," he said curtly. "She looks on you as a boy." "Man enough for any woman," said Jenkins, twirling the rudiments of a moustache. The discussion might have gone further, had it not been interrupted by Mr. Smythe, who burst suddenly into the room, as his custom was.