‘All right. I think I can find you something. We’re opening a branch.’ She mentioned the locality. ‘There’ll be a club-room, like at headquarters, and we shall want some one ladylike to sit there and answer questions. You wouldn’t be likely to see any one that knows you, and you’d get a good deal of fun out of it. Hours from ten to five, but Saturday afternoon off, and Wednesday after three, if that would do?’ ‘Yes, that would do very well. Any payment, at first?’ ‘Oh, we wouldn’t be so mean as all that. Say ten shillings a week till Christmas, and afterwards we could see’--she laughed--‘whether you’re worth more.’ ‘I know nothing about fashions.’ ‘You can learn all you need to know in an hour. It’s the ladylike appearance and talk more than anything else.’ Nancy sipped again from her wine-glass. ‘When could I begin?’ ‘The place ‘ll be ready on Monday week. Next week you might put in a few hours with us. Just sit and watch and listen, that’s all; to get the hang of the thing.’ ‘Thank you for being so ready to help me.’ ‘Not a bit of it. I haven’t done yet. There’s a condition. If I fix up this job for you, will you tell me something I want to know?’ Nancy turned her eyes apprehensively. ‘You can guess what it is. I quite believe what you told me some time ago, but I shan’t feel quite easy until I know--’ She finished the sentence with a look. Nancy’s eyes fell. ‘Curiosity, nothing else,’ added the other. ‘Just to make quite sure it isn’t anybody I’ve thought of.’ There was a long silence. Leaning forward upon the table, Nancy turned her wine-glass about and about. She now had a very high colour, and breathed quickly. ‘Is it off, then?’ said Beatrice, in an indifferent tone. Thereupon Nancy disclosed the name of her husband--her lover, as Miss. French thought him. Plied with further questions, she told where he was living, but gave no account of the circumstances that had estranged them. Abundantly satisfied, Beatrice grew almost affectionate, and talked merrily. Nancy wished to ask whether Luckworth Crewe had any knowledge of her position. It was long before her lips could utter the words, but at length they were spoken. And Beatrice assured her that Crewe, good silly fellow, did not even suspect the truth. CHAPTER 5 ‘For a man,’ said Tarrant, ‘who can pay no more than twelve and sixpence a week, it’s the best accommodation to be found in London. There’s an air of civilisation about the house. Look; a bath, and a little book-case, and an easy-chair such as can be used by a man who respects himself. You feel you are among people who tub o’ mornings and know the meaning of leisure. Then the view!’