"Yes, I daren't be late. Mr. Bonsfield gives me his letters directly after lunch. I think he'd tell me I might go, if I was late. You see it's very easy for them to get a secretary, the work's not difficult though there's a lot of it; and there are hundreds of girls who'd be ready to fill my place in a moment." He watched her considerately. "Thank God, my lance is free," he said. "Well--I suppose you must--if you must. I've enjoyed the talk." Her eyes lighted, smiling. "So have I--immensely--it is very good of you. Good-bye." She held out her hand. "Do you think you get off so lightly?" he asked. "How do you mean?" "I mean--do you think I'm going to let you go without some chance of seeing you again?" "But--" He checked that. He could not guess what had been passing through her mind, yet the note in her voice on that one word was discouraging. "You are going to come to dinner with me one evening." She was full of indecision. He gave her no time to think. It was not his intention to do so. "But how can I?" she began. "By coming dressed--just as you are. No need to go home and change. I'll be ready to meet you outside the office at six o'clock. You don't get out till a quarter past? Then a quarter past. We go to dinner--we go to a theatre; music-hall if you like--then I drive you down to Waterloo, put you in the last train to Kew Bridge--and that is all." She laughed in spite of herself. "I'll write to Strand-on-Green, and let you know what evening. Miss Bishop--what initial?" "S." "What's S. for?" "Sally." "Miss Sally Bishop, 73 Strand-on-Green, Kew Bridge. And I owe you ten pounds." For a moment she smiled--then her expression changed. "That's perfectly ridiculous," she said. "I wouldn't have you think it anything else," he said; "but, nevertheless, that's a legally contracted debt." CHAPTER XI Before she left the office that evening, Sally picked up the volume of _Who's Who?_ kept there mainly because Mr. Bonsfield had a brother whose name figured with some credit upon one of its pages. She turned quickly over the leaves, until the name of Traill leapt out from the print to hold her eye. "John Hewitt Traill"--she read it with self-conscious interest--"barrister-at-law and journalist. Born 1871; son of late Sir William Hewitt Traill, C.B., of Apsley Manor, near High Wycombe, Bucks. Address: Regent Street. _Clubs:_ National Liberal, and Savage. _Recreations:_ riding, shooting, fishing."