“This is a noble action of yours, sir,” said Mr. Doubleday, trying to clear his voice. “Reflects the highest credit on what I may venture to term the manhood of South London.” Spanswick looked at Erb proudly, as though to say, “He can talk, can’t he?” “The newspapers will ring with your praises, sir. Capital will sneak away, abashed and ashamed in the presence of such a brilliant example of self-sacrifice and whole-hearted devotion. I suppose you haven’t got such a thing as a pipe full of tobacco about you? I’ve come out without my pouch.” “Always comes out without his pouch,” remarked Spanswick admiringly. “No, no!” said Mr. Doubleday, refusing with something of haughtiness Erb’s further offer. “I have a match, thank you. I have no desire to be indebted for anything,” he drew hard at his pipe, “for anything which I myself possess.” “Independent old beggar, ain’t he?” whispered Spanswick. “My friend here gives me to understand—and I have no doubt that his information is per-fectly correct—that you have adopted this attitude because a female relative—a sister, if I mistake not—” “A sister,” admitted Erb. “Has suffered grievously. Assuming that to be the case, I can only say that I am proud to grasp your hand, sir, and that I desire your acquaintance.” “It ain’t many that he’d say that to,” whispered Spanswick. “I want all the friends I’ve got just now,” said Erb. “The lines of Longfellow,” said Mr. Doubleday condescendingly, “spring readily to one’s mind.” The hammer of the auctioneer went down with a startling crack; something that he said made the group of men laugh, and Erb was called by them to hear it. “We can make our lives sublime, and um-tee, umpty, umpty, umpty—footsteps on the sands of time,” quoted Mr. Doubleday. “I must hop off,” said Spanswick. “Hasn’t he got a marvellous memory?” “You’ll take your friend with you?” said Erb. “No,” said Spanswick, rather awkwardly, “I’ll leave him. Fancy he’s got something to say to you.” When the sale was over, it occurred to Erb that he had not eaten that day, and as the men had to hurry off to their duties, he would have been left alone but for Mr. Doubleday’s presence. Erb was glad to leave the gas-scented auction rooms, and would have been content with no other company but his own; he had been acting in a hot, tempestuous way of late, and he was anxious, now that this business was over, to review it all calmly. Anxious, also, think of Louisa, and— But Mr. Doubleday stuck to him, and when Erb entered the Enterprise Dining Rooms, in New Kent Road, Doubleday followed him to the pew, and sat down opposite. Erb gave his order to the girl, who rested the palms of her red hands on the table; when she turned to the other, Doubleday said, assuming the manner of a complaisant guest, that he would have the same. “Fate,” he said, hanging the deplorable silk hat on a wooden peg, “Fate has thrown us together, sir, in a most remarkable way.”