No shipwrecked mariner on a desert island could have welcomed the appearance of a sail with greater enthusiasm. He bounded at the door. He knew to whom the room belonged. It was the office of one Blaythwayt; and Blaythwayt was not only an acquaintance, but a sportsman. Quite possibly there might be a pack of cards on Blaythwayt's person to help pass the long hours. And if not, at least he would be company and his office a refuge. He flung open the door without going through the formality of knocking. Etiquette is not for the marooned. 'I say, Blaythwayt--' he began, and stopped abruptly. The only occupant of the room was a girl. 'I beg your pardon,' he said, 'I thought--' He stopped again. His eyes, dazzled with the light, had not seen clearly. They did so now. 'You!' he cried. The girl looked at him, first with surprise, then with a cool hostility. There was a long pause. Eighteen months had passed since they had parted, and conversation does not flow easily after eighteen months of silence, especially if the nature of the parting has been bitter and stormy. He was the first to speak. 'What are you doing here?' he said. 'I thought my doings had ceased to interest you,' she said. 'I am Mr Blaythwayt's secretary, I have been here a fortnight. I have wondered if we should meet. I used to see you sometimes in the street.' 'I never saw you.' 'No?' she said indifferently. He ran his hand through his hair in a dazed way. 'Do you know we are locked in?' he said. He had expected wild surprise and dismay. She merely clicked her tongue in an annoyed manner. 'Again!' she said. 'What a nuisance! I was locked in only a week ago.' He looked at her with unwilling respect, the respect of the novice for the veteran. She was nothing to him now, of course. She had passed out of his life. But he could not help remembering that long ago--eighteen months ago--what he had admired most in her had been this same spirit, this game refusal to be disturbed by Fate's blows. It braced him up. He sat down and looked curiously at her. 'So you left the stage?' he said. 'I thought we agreed when we parted not to speak to one another,' said she, coldly. 'Did we? I thought it was only to meet as strangers.' 'It's the same thing.' 'Is it? I often talk to strangers.' 'What a bore they must think you!' she said, hiding one-eighth of a yawn with the tips of two fingers. 'I suppose,' she went on, with faint interest, 'you talk to them in trains when they are trying to read their paper?' 'I don't force my conversation on anyone.' 'Don't you?' she said, raising her eyebrows in sweet surprise. 'Only your company--is that it?' 'Are you alluding to the present occasion?' 'Well, you have an office of your own in this building, I believe.' 'I have.' 'Then why--' 'I am at perfect liberty,' he said, with dignity, 'to sit in my friend Blaythwayt's office if I choose. I wish to see Mr Blaythwayt.' 'On business?'