As she walked with him, she bitterly reproached herself for her falsehood; she also tried to hide from herself that her rudeness had been largely assumed in order to conceal her growing regard for him. It would seem another world when he was not at her side to protect her from possible harm. As they passed Burlington House, a beggar whined his tale of woe in their ears. Mavis saw Windebank give the man something, the handsomeness of which made the recipient open his eyes. A flower-seller, who had witnessed the generous act, immediately pestered Windebank to buy of her wares, an example at once followed by others of her calling. He gave them all money, at which some of them forced their wired flowers upon him, whilst others overwhelmed him with thanks. "Don't thank me," he protested, as he glanced towards Mavis, who was the recipient of countless blessings, mechanically uttered. Beggars and loafers, with their keen scent for prey, were about him in less time than it takes to tell. He gave largely, generously; he was soon the centre of a struggling, unsavoury crowd, which was growing larger every minute. "Whatever are you doing?" protested Mavis. "Wasn't it your wish?" he asked. "Not this. Please, please get me out and away." The next moment, Windebank, dragging Mavis after him, was vigorously making a passage through those who surrounded them. Once he saw his way clear, he ran forward, still keeping hold of her, and dragged her up Bond Street. They were still followed by the more persistent of the loafers, but a friendly policeman came to their aid, enabling them to pursue their unmolested way down Piccadilly. "It is good of you to let me stay with you all this time," he said presently. "What time is it?" she asked. "I'll see. Why, I've lost my watch!" "Not really?" "I suppose it was stolen just now." "Stolen?" "Yes, you can see where the chain is snapped." "Can't we do something?" "What's the use?" "But it must be got back. If it isn't, I shall feel it's all my doing." "How can that be? Don't talk rot." "I talked you into giving money away, and--" "If you say any more, I'll be very angry," he interrupted. "What's a watch!" Although she made no further reference to the matter, she thought the more of the loss he had sustained, which was owing to the representations she had made upon his duty to the needy. His indifference to the theft of his property the more inclined her in his favour. As they walked, he was full of kindly anxiety for her present and future welfare. His ardent sincerity filled her with self-reproaches, the while he continued to express concern for her well-being. Presently, when they were passing St George's Hospital, she said: "I wish you wouldn't talk so much about myself." "It's so interesting," he pleaded. "Why not talk more about yourself?" "Never mind me." "But I do. What on earth time will you get to bed?" "Any time. It doesn't matter." "Won't you be tired in the morning?"