But to get across this crowded thoroughfare was an undertaking that Evarne, with her shaken nerves, was scarcely capable of managing. Again and again she set out only to return, startled and alarmed, to the pavement. Undue timidity was so new to her that her pretty brow deepened into wrinkles. It was dreadful that stress of mental suffering should have reduced her to this foolishly weak and incapable condition of mind and body. The girl with the plume once more came to the rescue. "You're not used to London, I can see. I'll take you across. And now I'll just show you the right road," she continued, when they had reached the opposite pavement in safety. "I do hope," declared Evarne slyly, "that nobody specially interesting will happen to come along over there while you are being so kind as to see after me." Her companion looked for a moment as if she had suddenly discovered herself to be in the society of a clairvoyante. Then she answered lightly enough-- "It doesn't matter much if she does." But Evarne was not to be deceived by the feminine pronoun. In a couple of minutes the girl with the plume stopped. "Good-bye," she said, holding out her hand, "and good luck." Evarne was sorry to have to say farewell. She clasped the hand that was offered her. "Good-bye," she said roguishly, "and I do hope that then he--um--I mean she----" The girl with the plume interrupted her by a little laugh of amusement. Evarne laughed too, and thus they parted. It was just a stray meeting--a momentary friendship never to be renewed--but it put Evarne in a new frame of mind. Whether it was owing to the meal, or to having so far forgotten her own woes as to indulge in the fun of bantering another girl, or whether it was to the practical kindness and help she had received in finding a _pied-à-terre_, she knew not; but certainly she walked down Vauxhill Bridge Road with a considerably brighter expression than heretofore. The number found, her knock was answered by Mrs. Burling in person. Evarne inquired after accommodation and terms. "Are you a pro, miss?" inquired Mrs. Burling. "A pro?" "I mean, are you on the stage yourself? But there, I can see you ain't." The girl acknowledged it. "Does that matter?" "Not a bit; come in, my dear." Evarne entered, and trying to close her nostrils against the smell of onions that was wafted along the passage, followed Mrs. Burling into a sitting-room. This apartment was overcrowded by a suite of shiny black furniture, and decorated lavishly with antimacassars, and objects of one description and another under glass cases. The girl thought it hideous, and almost unbearable to have to live amid such surroundings. "Take a seat, miss. I've only got a 'combined' vacant now, but next week----" "I don't want to pay much," confessed Evarne frankly. "How much is the 'combined,' and may I see it?"