"I know, Sally," he said gently. "You don't have to tell me. I am glad to be of any assistance at all." And Sally had thanked him and had liked him better at that moment than she ever had before. It was a pity that Jane could not know that. Two days later Harry Carling had telegraphed; and here they were, just turning the last corner and finding themselves in the Street. I don't give the name of the street for reasons which must be obvious enough, but, irrespective of the name, Sally's heart beat a little faster when they turned into it. Jane's heart would have beat faster if it had not already accelerated its beat quite as much as it could with safety. He was finding it in his mouth most of the time and had to swallow frequently and hard to keep it down where it belonged. As for speaking calmly and naturally, that was out of the question. That was enough to account for his prolonged silence. When he did make the attempt his voice was high and shrill and he hesitated and could not say what he wanted to. It was a quiet street, entirely deserted at that end, and it was lined with dignified old houses which echoed the sound of their footfalls until their coming seemed the invasion of an army. "Mercy!" Sally cried nervously, under her breath. "What a racket we're making!" And the sound of her voice reverberated from side to side. The army had begun to talk. That would never do. "Silence in the ranks!" thought Sally; and was surprised that her thought was not echoed, too. Jane began to laugh excitedly, but stopped at once. The street was very respectable, anybody would have said; eminently respectable. It even seemed dignified. There is no doubt that there had been a time when it had been both respectable and dignified and had not contented itself with seeming so. The houses had been built at that time and presented their rather severe brick fronts to the street, giving an effect that was almost austere. They were absolutely without ornament, excepting, perhaps, in their inconspicuous but generous entrances. Altogether, Sally thought the effect was distinctly pleasing. She would have been glad to live in one of these houses; for example, in that one with the wide recessed doorway with the fan over it. It was dark now; dark as a pocket. Not a light showed at any of the windows, although a dim one--a very dim one--burned over the door. The people must be all in bed at this seasonable hour, like good custom-abiding people. There might have been a special curfew at nine o'clock for this special street. "That is the house," whispered Jane, pointing with a hand which was not very steady to the very house that Sally had been contemplating with admiration. It was not light enough for Sally to note the shaking of his hand.