"It doesn't matter--they like it; that's what they come here for." John was a little uncertain who "they" meant. It seemed to include every one but herself. "Have you a cigarette?" she asked, abruptly. The boy's heart sank. "I haven't--I don't smoke. I can get some." "Don't bother." She looked at him curiously. "You don't smoke--you're a queer kid." They stood alone now, for Adams and Bailey had strolled on. He noticed how transparently thin were her hands, which she tucked in her belt. Her neck had a lovely line in its perfect sweep from the throat down. "You are an art student?" she asked, with a faint smirk. "Oh no--I'm on a paper--why?" "You examine like one." He flushed with the detection, and she gave a little laugh of triumph. "Sit down and tell me all about yourself--you puzzle me," she said. "You look as if you'll do all sorts of wonderful things, but people who look like that hardly ever do anything." He was easier now. They sat side by side on the lounge. "There's little to tell, Miss--" "Oh, drop that, I'm Tilly to every one." "Tilly then,--you see I haven't left school long." "I can see that--the down's on you yet." The remark hurt him and she saw it, swiftly. "Don't mind me," she said quietly, putting a hand on his arm. "You see I'm used to men that gloat and want rebuffing." She laughed at the surprise in John's eyes. "Don't look like that or I shall melt. You're a nice boy, and I'm afraid of you." "Of me?" "Yes--you make me think of lots of things I've given up thinking about. Harry must ask you to tea." So she was married! Of course she was married, he reflected, he was a fool not to have known from the first. "I should like very much to come." She looked at him again, until he looked away, and with a little laugh jumped up. "We must get back now. I'll see you soon. Good-bye!" and she was gone. What an off-hand creature! He was annoyed at her manner. She had treated him like an infant. She had laughed at him. He had let her see too much. When the play was ended and he stood in the crowded vestibule with Bailey, amid the crush of fur-wrapped women and black-coated men, he was still thinking of her. "You've made a hit with Tilly," said Bailey. "I!" "Yes--and she doesn't pay compliments--but don't let her play with you; she doesn't take any one seriously." "I'm not likely to do that," replied John shortly. "Come along then--we've to get our work done." III