She laughed, and then, as that stiff social figure of her mother rose before her eyes and she recalled to her mind remarks about a dressmaker who happened to live in Shepherd’s Bush--"Poor thing--she lives at Shepherd’s Bush--Life treats some people in a shameful way--" an expression of charity that went no further, for the dressmaker’s work was not considered good enough or cheap enough, and she was given nothing more to do--when she remembered that, the laugh vanished from her eyes. "Isn’t it as good as Shepherd’s Bush?" she had asked quite simply. Well, when, in your more opulent moments, you have thought of such a thing as a better address at Shepherd’s Bush, and have a question such as this put to you, you have little desire left to reveal the locality of the abode you do occupy. It takes the pride out of you. It silenced John. He recalled to his mind a remark of Mrs. Meakin’s when, having invited him to take a rosy-cheeked apple from that little partition where the rosy-cheeked apples lay, she had thought by this subtle bribe to draw him into conversation about himself. "Don’t you find it very dull livin’ ’ere all alone by yourself?" she had asked. "Wherever you live," said John evasively, "you’re by yourself. You’re as much alone in a crowd as in an empty church." She had nodded her head, picked up a large Spanish onion, and peeled off the outer skin to make it look more fresh. "But I should have thought," she had added pensively--"I should have thought as ’ow you’d have found this such a very low-cality." And so, perhaps it was--very low. And if Mrs. Meakin had thought so, and Jill herself could talk thus deprecatingly of Shepherd’s Bush, where he had hoped to better his address, then it were as well to leave Fetter Lane alone. "So you have made up your mind," he had said quietly. "You’ve made up your mind not to see me again?" "It’s not I who have made it up," she answered. "But you’re going to obey?" "I must." "You won’t be here to-morrow morning, at this hour?" "No--I can’t--I mustn’t." "Not to tell me how you liked my short story?" "You know I liked it--awfully." "And you won’t come and hear another that’s better than that?" "How can I? You don’t understand. If you came and lived at Prince of Wales’ Terrace, you’d understand then." "Then it’s no good my coming to-morrow?" "Not if you want to see me." "Then good-bye." John stood up and held out his hand. If you know the full value of coercion in renunciation; if you realise the full power of persuasion in the saying of good-bye, you have command of that weapon which is the surest and the most subtle in all the armament of Destiny. It is only when they have said good-bye that two people really come together. "But why must you go now?" Jill had said regretfully. John smiled.