It was time that was stopped. It was time for London to be made to recognize that it had a soul, and this generation must begin the task, for never before had a generation been so faced with the blank impossibility of accepting the work, thought, and faith of its predecessor. Never had it been so easy to slip out of the stream of tradition, for never had tradition so completely disappeared underground. "'He that hath eyes to see, let him see,'" quoth Logan, and he hurled himself into his work, dancing to and fro, squaring his shoulders at it as though the picture were an adversary in a boxing-match. * * * * * At half-past four he laid down his brushes and began to arrange the room, pinning photographs on the walls, and unpacking certain articles of furniture, as a rug, a great chair, and mattresses to make a divan, which he had bought that morning. Every now and then he ran to the window, threw up the sash, and looked up and down the street. At last with a tremor of excitement he leaned out and waved his hand, shut the window, and ran downstairs. In a moment or two he returned with the girl of the Tube station. She was wearing the same clothes, with the addition of a cheap fur boa, and she panted a little from the run upstairs with him. "I'm glad you came," he said. "I was afraid you wouldn't." "Oh! It's not far from where I live," she said. "But you are in a mess." "I've only just got in. I would have asked you to my old place, but I had to leave." "So you're a nartist," she said. "I thought you were something funny." "Funny!" snorted Logan. "I call a shop-walker funny; or a banker, for that matter, or a millionaire. An artist is the most natural thing to be in the world. . . . Take your hat and gloves off and give me a hand, and then we'll have tea." "Oh! I love my tea." "I know all about tea. I get it from a friend of mine in the City. I know how to make it, too." They worked together, arranging, dusting, keeping deliberately apart and eyeing each other surreptitiously. He liked her slow, heavy, indolent movements, and she exaggerated them for him. She liked his quick, firm, decisive actions, and he accentuated them for her; and she liked his thick, black hair and his strong hands. He picked up the great chair and held it at arm's-length. "Oo! You are strong," she said. "I could hold you up like that." "I'd like to see you try," and she gave a little giggle of protest. "I will if I don't like you," said he, "and I'll let you drop and break your leg." She went off into peals of laughter, and he laughed too. "It's such a jolly day," he said. "It only needed you to come to make everything perfect." "What made you speak to me the other night?" she asked. "I liked the look of you." "But I'm not that sort, you know." "It isn't a question of being that sort. I wanted to speak to you, and that was enough for me. Sit down and have some tea."