'Forgive me, my friend,' She sprang from the chair and pulled the bell rope. 'Before we talk you must take some dinner.' She gave her orders in a quick peremptory tone as one accustomed to be obeyed. In a few minutes the table was spread with a white cloth and laid out with a cold chicken, a noble ham, a loaf of bread, and a bottle of Madeira. You may imagine that I made very little delay in sitting down to these good things. Heavens! How good they were after the prolonged diet of bread and cheese! Madame looked on and waited, her chin in her hand. When I desisted at length, she poured out another glass of Madeira. 'Tell me,' she said. 'Your sweet wife and the lovely boy--are they as hungry as you?' I shook my head sadly. 'We shall see, presently, what we can do. Meantime, tell me the whole story.' I told her, briefly, that my story was nothing at all but the story of a man out of employment who could not find any and was slowly dropping into shabbiness of appearance and weakness of body. 'No work? Why, I supposed you would go back to--to--to something in the City.' 'Though my father was a Knight and a Lord Mayor, I am a simple musician by trade. I am not a gentleman.' 'I like you all the better,' she replied, smiling. 'I am not a gentlewoman either. The actress is a rogue and a vagabond. So is the musician I suppose.' I stared. Was she, then, still an actress--and living in this stately Palace? 'You are a musician. Do you, then, want to find work as a fiddler?' 'That is what I am looking for.' 'Let us consider. Do you play like a--a--gentleman or like one of the calling?' 'I am one of the calling. When I tell you that I used to live by fiddling for sailors to dance----' 'Say no more--say no more. They are the finest critics in the world. If you please them it is enough. Why should I not engage you, myself?' 'You--engage--me? You--Madame?' 'Friend Will,' she laid her hand on mine, 'there are reasons why I wish you well and would stand by you if I could. I will tell you, another day, what those reasons are. Let me treat you as a friend. When we are alone, I am not Madame: I am Jenny.' There are some women who if they said such a thing as this, would be taken as declaring the passion of love. No one could look at Jenny's face which was all simplicity and candour and entertain the least suspicion of such a thing. 'Nay, I can only marvel,' I said. For I still thought that I was talking to some great lady. 'I think that I must be dreaming.' 'Since you know not where you are, this is the Soho Assembly and I am Madame Vallance.' I seemed to have heard of Madame Vallance.