To Bennett her voice sounded distant and very lovely, and it seemed to him that she was speaking to him, for him. Presently they passed the little boat nestling by the bank under a plane-tree. Mary called out: "You'll be late." There came no reply. They were late. It was half-past twelve before Minna reached home. The household was asleep and Serge had stayed up for her. He said: "Hardly wise to be so late." "We missed the train." "Two or three. Just as well you didn't miss the last." Minna smiled. "Why?" "I don't think you ought to use Haslam as a decoy for Fry. He's too good for it." "I think you're a beast, Serge." "Am I? We shall see." "Fry's married. Frederic told me." "I don't think that makes a ha'porth of difference--to you or to him." "It isn't your affair." "I agree." "And, anyhow, you're quite wrong. Good-night." "Good-night." XIX GERTRUDE _Nous mettons l'infini dans l'amour. Ce n'est pas la faute des femmes._ ANATOLE FRANCE. UPON a day Bennett Lawrie escaped early from his office, leaving his day's work to be finished by a co-junior clerk on a promise to do as much for him when he should require it. He was feeling very tired, having had only a walk and two cigarettes for dinner, a practice so common among junior clerks that they have a name for it--Flag Hash. Twice during Gertrude's absence he had taken Annette and her mother to the theatre--three dress-circle seats at five shillings--a heavy drain upon his income, which was now one pound fifteen shillings a week, paid monthly. His mother knew nothing of the advance of five shillings a week that he had obtained on the third application with the plea that he was engaged to be married. That helped a little, but, even so, his position was serious, and at moments made him feel very sick at heart. He had been making efforts to save money when Mrs. Folyat's expression of regret that she had not been to the theatre plunged him into the rash offer to pay for seats. He had no thought but that she would pay for two of them at least. But no; Mrs. Folyat regarded it as the feminine privilege to enjoy entertainment at the expense of the masculine pocket. Further cause had Bennett for anxiety in that his correspondence with Gertrude had dwindled from the devoted daily letter to an effusion with great difficulty squeezed out twice a week. That her letter had come at longer and longer intervals comforted him not at all. He had never asked testimony of devotion from his betrothed; it was enough that she should so far stoop as to be engaged to him. . . . Also, as he walked to the station through the dark railway arches, through Town Hall Square with its statues of John Bright, the late Bishop, the Prince Consort, and a local philanthropic sweater, past the Infirmary, he was dogged by an unhappy realisation that it gave him no pleasure to be going to meet Gertrude. She had written him a romantic little note: