The “good-by” was so faint that it was apparent to her as she stood in the shop and gave a modest order for chocolates that he had not heard it. She bit her lip, and after a glance at the figure outside, added to her order a large one for buns. She came out of the shop with a bag overflowing with them. “Let me,” said Mr. Vyner, hastily. Miss Hartley handed them over at once, and, walking by his side, strove hard to repress malicious smiles. She walked slowly and gave appraising glances at shop windows, pausing finally at a greengrocer’s to purchase some bananas. Mr. Vyner, with the buns held in the hollow of his arm, watched her anxiously, and his face fell as she agreed with the greengrocer as to the pity of spoiling a noble bunch he was displaying. Insufficiently draped in a brown-paper bag, it took Mr. Vyner’s other arm. “You are quite useful,” said Miss Hartley, with a bright smile. Mr. Vyner returned the smile, and in bowing to an acquaintance nearly lost a bun. He saved it by sheer sleight of hand, and noting that his companion was still intent on the shops, wondered darkly what further burdens were in store for him. He tried to quicken the pace, but Miss Hartley was not to be hurried. “I must go in here, I think,” she said, stopping in front of a draper’s. “I sha’n’t be long.” Mr. Vyner took his stand by the window with his back to the passers-by, and waited. At the expiration of ten minutes he peeped in at the door, and saw Miss Hartley at the extreme end of the shop thoughtfully fingering bales of cloth. He sighed, and, catching sight of a small boy regarding him, had a sudden inspiration. “Here! Would you like some buns, old chap?” he cried. The child’s eyes glistened. “Take ’em,” said Mr. Vyner, thankfully. “Don’t drop ’em.” He handed them over and stood smiling benevolently as the small boy, with both arms clasped round the bag, went off hugging it to his bosom. Another urchin, who had been regarding the transaction with speechless envy, caught his eye. He beckoned him to him and, with a few kind words and a fatherly admonition not to make himself ill, presented him with the bananas. Then he drew a deep breath, and, assuming an expression of gravity befitting the occasion, braced himself for the inevitable encounter. Five minutes later Miss Hartley, bearing a large and badly-tied parcel, came smiling out to him. The smile faded suddenly, and she stood regarding him in consternation. “Why—!” she began. “Where—?” Mr. Vyner eyed her carefully. “I gave ’em away,” he said, slowly. “Two poor, hungry little chaps stood looking at me. I am awfully fond of children, and before I knew what I was doing—” “I’ve no doubt,” said Joan, bitterly, as she realized her defeat. “I’ve no doubt.” Mr. Vyner leaned toward the parcel. “Allow me,” he murmured, politely. “Thank you, I’ll carry it myself,” said Joan, sharply.