She told him of Edward Caspar, her mother's old friend, scholar, dreamer, gentleman, with the blood of the Beauregards in his veins, who had married the daughter of an Ealing tobacconist, and lived in Rectory Walk; of Anne Caspar, the harsh and devoted tyrant; of the two sons of this inharmonious couple, and the antagonism between them from childhood; of Alf's victory and Ernie's enlistment in the Army; his sojourn in India and return to Old Town some years since; and she gave him a brief outline of Ruth's history, not mentioning Royal's name but referring once or twice through set teeth to "that little beast." "Who's that?" asked the Cherub. "Ernie's brother," she answered. "Alfred, who drives for dad." "Not the sidesman?" "Yes." Bobby looked surprised. "Mr. Spink," Bess explained darkly. "He got him there." Apart from Bess's recommendation, Mr. Chislehurst's contact with Ruth was soon established through little Alice, who attended Sunday School. Ruth, moreover, called herself a church-woman, and was sedately proud of it, though the Church had no apparent influence upon her life, and though she never attended services. On the latter point, the Cherub, when he had rooted himself firmly in her regard, remonstrated. "See, I ca-a-n't, sir," said Ruth simply. "Why not?" asked Bobby. "_He's_ always there," Ruth answered enigmatically. Bobby was puzzled and she saw it. "Alf," she explained. "See, he wanted me same as Ernie. Only not to marry me. Just for his fun like and then throw you over. That's Alf, that is. There's the difference atween the two brothers." She regarded the young man before her with the lovely solicitude of the mother initiating a sensitive son into the cruelties of a world of which she has already had tragic experience. "Men are like that, sir--some men." She added with tender delicacy, "Only you wouldn't know it, not yet." The Cherub might be innocent, but no man has lived and worked in the back-streets of Bermondsey without learning some strange and ugly truths about life and human nature. "He's not worrying you now?" he asked anxiously. "Nothing to talk on," answered Ruth. "He wants me still, I allow. Only he won't get me--not yet a bit anyways." She seemed quite casual about the danger that threatened her, Bobby noticed; even, he thought, quietly enjoying it. That evening, when the Cherub touched on the point to his colleague, Mr. Spink turned in his india-rubber lips. "It's an honour to be abused by a woman like that," he said. "She's a bad character--bad." "She's not that, I swear!" cried Bobby warmly. "She may have exaggerated, or made a mistake, but bad she's not." "I believe I've been in the parish longer than you have, Chislehurst," retorted the other crisply. "And presumably I know something about the people in it." "You've not been in as long as Miss Trupp," retorted Bobby. "She's been here all her life." Mr. Spink puffed at his cigar with uplifted chin and smiled.