"Why did you tell me?" she exclaimed impatiently. "Now I can't finish my supper. Wait till he has given his order, and then we will go." Waymark examined this mysterious persecutor. In truth, the countenance was no good one, and a woman might well dislike to have such eyes turned upon her. It was a strong face; coarse originally, and, in addition to the faults of nature, it now bore the plainest traces of hard living. As soon as he perceived Waymark and his companion, he fixed them with his eyes, and scarcely looked away as long as they remained in the room. The girl seemed shrinking under this gaze, though she sat almost with her back to him. She ceased talking, and, as soon as she saw that Waymark had finished, made a sign to him to pay quickly (with a sovereign she pushed across the table) and let them be gone. They rose, accordingly, and left. The man watched them, but remained seated. "Are you in a hurry to get home?" the girl asked, when they were in the street again. "No; time is of no consequence to me." "Do you live far off?" "In Kennington. And you?" "If you like, I'll show you. Let us walk quickly. I feel rather cold." She led the way into the Strand. At no great distance from Temple Bar she turned off into a small court. "This is a queer place to live in," observed Waymark, as he looked up at the dark houses. "Don't be afraid," was the good-humoured reply, as she opened the door with a latch-key. They went up two flights of stairs, then entered a room where a bright fire was burning. Waymark's conductor held a piece of paper to the flame, and lit a lamp. It was a small, pleasantly furnished sitting-room. "Do you play?" Waymark asked, seeing an open piano, with music upon it. "I only wish I could. My landlady's daughter is giving me lessons. But I think I'm getting on. Listen to me do this exercise." She sat down, and, with much conscientious effort, went over some simple bars. Then she looked up at her companion and caught him smiling. "Well," she exclaimed, in a pet, "you must begin at the beginning in everything, mustn't you? Come and let me hear what you can do." "Not even so much." "Then don't laugh at a poor girl doing her best. You have such a queer smile too; it seems both ill-natured and good-natured at the same time. Now wait a minute till I come back." She went into an inner room, and closed the door behind her. In five minutes it opened again. She appeared in a dressing gown and with her feet in slippers. Her fine hair fell heavily about her shoulders; in her arms she held a beautiful black cat, with white throat and paws. "This is my child. Don't you admire him? Shake hands, Grim." "Why Grim?"