"When you took pity on a nameless man. But it seems indicated that he should be Mr. Smith, unless you have any objection!" "No, I have none. You'd better take the name, as I mentioned it to the waiter." "And the first name?" "I don't know. The initial I gave was N." "Very well, I choose Nelson. Where do we live?" Annesley stared, frightened. "Forgive me," the man said. "I ought to have explained what I meant before asking you that, or put the question another way. Will you go on as you've begun, and trust me farther, by letting me drive with you to your home, if necessary, in case of being followed? At worst, I'll need to beg no more than to stand inside your front door for a few minutes if we're watched, and--but I see that this time I have passed the limit. I'm expecting too much! How do you know but I may be a thief or a murderer?" "I hadn't thought of such a thing," Annesley stammered. "I was only thinking--it isn't _my_ house. It doesn't even belong to my people. I live with an old lady, Mrs. Ellsworth. I hope she'll be in bed when I get back, and the servants, too. I have a key because--because I told a fib about the place where I was going, and consequently Mrs. Ellsworth approved. If she hadn't approved, I shouldn't have been allowed out. I could let you stand inside the door. But if any one followed us to the house, and saw the number, he could look in the directory, and find out that it belonged to Mrs. Ellsworth, not Mr. Smith." "He couldn't have a directory in his pocket! By the time he got hold of one and could make any use of his knowledge, I'd be far away." "Yes, I suppose you would," Annesley thought aloud, and a little voice seemed to add sharply in her ear: "Far away out of my life." This brought to her memory what she had in her excitement forgotten: the adventure she had come out to meet had faded into thin air! The unexpected one which had so startlingly taken its place would end to-night, and she would be left to the dreary existence from which she had tried to break free. She was like a pebble that had succeeded in riding out to sea on a wave, only to be washed back into its old place on the shore. The thought that, after all, she had no change to look forward to, gave the girl a passionate desire to make the most of this one living hour among many that were born dead. "Mrs. Ellsworth's house," she said, "is 22-A, Torrington Square." "Thank you." Only these two words he spoke, but the eager dark eyes seemed to add praise and blessings for her confidence. "My name is Annesley Grayle," she volunteered, as if to prove to the man and to herself how far she trusted him; also perhaps as a bid for his name in payment of that trust. So at least he must have understood, for he said: "If I don't tell you mine, it's for your own protection. I'm not ashamed of it; but it's better that you shouldn't know--that if you heard it suddenly, it should be strange to you, just like any other name. Don't you see I'm right?"