'Oh, that won't be difficult,' she declared. 'You must just do as I tell you, and I can manage it.' 'Well, I don't know that I could have a better guide.' 'Go and put on your best clothes. You're going out with me.' 'I've got them on,' smiled Airey Newton. 'Oh, I beg your pardon!' cried Peggy in momentary distress. His face reassured her; they both fell to laughing. 'Well, anyhow,' she suggested, as a last resort, 'suppose you brush them?' Airey had no objection to that, and departed to his room. Peggy moved about in restless excitement, fired by her idea. 'First for her, and then----' She shook her head at her own audacity. Yet confidence would not die in her. Had she really struck on the way? Had not the demon summoned up all his most seductive arguments just because he was sore afraid? It was madness? 'Yes, madness to cure madness!' cried Peggy in her heart. A gift to the poor would not do that; the fire would consume and offer nothing in return. She would try. Airey seemed to surrender himself into her hands; he climbed into the cab docilely. She had run down first and given the man a direction. Airey did not ask where they were going. She opened the little bag, took out its contents, and thrust them into his hands; he pocketed them without a word. They drove westward. She glanced at him covertly once or twice; his face was puzzled, but not pained. He wore an air of sedate meditation; it was so out of keeping with the character of the expedition that Peggy smiled again. She darted another quick look at him as they drew up at their first destination. He raised his brows a little, but followed her in silence. Peggy gave a gasp of relief as they passed within the doors. The shopman was not tall and prim, like the bank clerk; he was short, stout, and inclined to roguishness; his eyes twinkled over Peggy, but he was fairly at his wits' end for an explanation. They could not be an engaged pair; Airey's manner gave no hint of it--and the shopman was an experienced judge. Was it an intrigue? Really, in the shopman's opinion, Airey's coat forbade the supposition. He inclined to the theory of a doting uncle or a prodigal godfather. He tumbled out his wares in the profusion such a chance demanded. At first Airey was very indifferent, but presently he warmed up. He became critical as to the setting of a ring, as to the stones in a bracelet. He even suggested once or twice that the colour of the stones was not suitable, and Peggy was eager to agree. The shopman groped in deeper darkness, since he had taken Peggy's complexion as his guiding star. However the bargains were made--that was the thing; three or four little boxes lay on the counter neatly packed. 'I will bring them round myself, madame, if you will favour me with the address.' 'We'll take them with us, please,' said Peggy.