“More than could be said of what was inside it. He was always talking about what he’d put by in the Railway Savings Bank, and every pay day he used to come home and say, ‘It’s adding up rapidly,’ and ‘You won’t want for nothing, my love, if I should be took away.’ And,” with acerbity, “when he did go off, I found that instead of having about forty pounds there—enough to give me the chance of opening a little business—he hadn’t put by as many shillings. Not as many pence.” “Some men are like that.” “All men are like that,” she insisted. “No, no, no!” protested Swan. “We’ve got our faults, but we haven’t got the same kind of faults. Most of us are straightforward. How do you manage to rub along, ma’am, if it isn’t a rude question?” “It is a rude question; but I do dressmaking, and I take lodgers.” “You take in lodgers?” She smiled, and Swan could not help thinking that only trouble interfered with her good looks. She sent the child to the scullery for a jug of water. “Not for me,” he insisted. “I shall have something with my supper, later on.” “It’s for the flowers,” as the child obeyed. “And I didn’t want her to hear what I was about to tell you,” she went on confidentially. “The fact is— As you say, it has been an extraordinary autumn. The sun to-day was enough to make people’s eyes ache.” “Ain’t spilt a drop,” announced the child, who had returned swiftly. Swan moved his chair nearer. “You’ve got eyes,” he said, lowering his voice, “eyes like the head-lights on an engine.” She tried to frown, and gave a meaning glance in the direction of the occupied little girl. “I shall be dreamin’ of ’em for weeks,” he whispered earnestly. “I’m not one to take much notice of females in a general way—a woman hater; that’s what they call me in the porters’ room—but as I was going to say, I can quite well imagine a chap like myself, going on for years just racketing about and then coming across a pair of eyes like yours and saying to himself, ‘Swan, old man, it’s time you began to take matters seriously!’” “Martha, my dear, go on with your work. Me and Mr. Swan are only talking business!” “You must have been a decent-looking girl in your day,” Swan went on. “Of course, time doesn’t stand still with any of us, and very few can weather the storm, as you may say, without showing some signs of wear and tear.” “I’ve had more of a struggle than most,” she said, glancing at the mirror. “You want somebody to take you out for walks, and now and again an evening at the theatre. Sometimes I get pit orders for two, and I tear ’em up, because,” said Swan, with a touch of melancholy, “simply because I can’t get no one to go with.” “That is a shame!” she cried. “Surely your landlady—”