"What a strange coincidence," she murmured. There was not much room on the trunk for two. He sat quite on one end of it. "You mean,--sitting there?" he inquired, blankly. "No. Your turning up as you did,--out of a clear sky." "I shouldn't call it clear," said he, suddenly diffident. "Thick as a blanket." "It was queer, though, wasn't it?" "Not a bit. I've been walking up and down past this house for twenty minutes at least. We were bound to meet. Sit still. I'll keep an eye out for an empty taxi. The first thing to do is to see that you get safely down to Mrs. Sparflight's." "How did you know I was to go there?" she demanded. "She told me," said he bluntly. "She wasn't to tell any one--at present." She peered closely,--at the side of his face. He abruptly changed the subject. "And then I'll come back here and wait till he ventures out. I'm off till nine o'clock. I sha'n't pull his nose this time." "Please explain," she insisted, clutching at his arm as he started to arise. "Did she send you up here, Mr. Trotter?" "No, she didn't," said he, almost gruffly, and stood up to hail an approaching automobile. "Can't see a thing," he went on. "We'll just have to stop 'em till we catch one that isn't engaged. Taxi?" he shouted. "No!" roared a voice from the shroud of mist. "The butler telephoned for one, I am sure," said she. "He must have been sent away before I came downstairs." "Don't think about it. You'll get yourself all wrought up and--and--Everything's all right, now, Lady Jane,--I should say Miss--" "Call me Jane," said she softly. "You--you don't mind?" he cried, and sat down beside her again. The trunk seemed to have increased in size. At any rate there was room to spare at the end. "Not--not in the least," she murmured. He was silent for a long time. "Would you mind calling me Eric,--just once?" he said at last, wistfully. His voice was very low. "I--I'm rather homesick for the sound of my own name, uttered by one of my own people." "Oh, you poor dear boy!" "Say 'Eric,'" he pleaded. "Eric," she half-whispered, suddenly shy. He drew a long, deep breath, and again was silent for a long time. Both of them appeared to have completely forgotten her plight. "We're both a long, long way from home, Jane," he said. "Yes, Eric." "Odd that we should be sitting here like this, on a trunk, on the sidewalk,--in a fog." "The 'two orphans,'" she said, with feeble attempt at sprightliness. "People passing by within a few yards of us and yet we--we're quite invisible." There was a thrill in his voice. "Almost as if we were in London, Eric,--lovely black old London." Footsteps went by in the fog in front of them, automobiles slid by behind them, tooting their unheard horns. "Oh, Jane, I--I can't help it," he whispered in her ear, and his arm went round her shoulders. "I--I love you so." She put her hand up to his cheek and held it there. "I--I know it, Eric," she said, ever so softly.