I wonder what Frank made of it. He must have known Gertie thoroughly well by now, and certainly there is not one sensible man in a thousand whose gorge would not have risen at the situation. Yet I doubt whether Frank paid it much attention. "Where's the house?" he said. He glanced up at the number of the door by which he stood. "It must be a dozen doors further on," he said. "It's the last house in the row," murmured Gertie, in a weak voice. "Is father looking out? Go and see." "My dear girl," said Frank, "do not be silly. Do remember your mother's letter." Then she suddenly turned on him, and if ever she was genuine she was in that moment. "Frankie," she whispered, "why not take me away yourself? Oh! take me away! take me away!" He looked into her eyes for an instant, and in that instant he caught again that glimpse as of Jenny herself. "Take me away--I'll live with you just as you like!" She took him by his poor old jacket-lapel. "You can easily make enough, and I don't ask--" Then he detached her fingers and took her gently by the arm. "Come with me," he said. "No; not another word." Together in silence they went the few steps that separated them from the house. There was a little garden in front, its borders set alternately with sea-shells and flints. At the gate she hesitated once more, but he unlatched the gate and pushed her gently through. "Oh! my gloves!" whispered Gertie, in a sharp tone of consternation. "I left them in the shop next the A.B.C. in Wilton Road." Frank nodded. Then, still urging her, he brought her up to the door and tapped upon it. There were footsteps inside. "God bless you, Gertie. Be a good girl. I'll wait in the road for ten minutes, so that you can call me if you want to." Then he was gone as the door opened. (II) The next public appearance of Frank that I have been able to trace, was in Westminster Cathedral. Now it costs an extra penny at least, I think, to break one's journey from Hammersmith to Broad Street, and I imagine that Frank would not have done this after what he had said to Gertie about the difficulty connected with taking an omnibus, except for some definite reason, so it is only possible to conclude that he broke his journey at Victoria in an attempt to get at those gloves.