"We—we’ve got to walk back, K.K. I’ve only sixpence, so we can’t drive at all. Oh, K.K.—I—I’m going to cry—" "Expect you’ll bite my head off, but you’ve just got to put up with me!" Out of the yellow fog—out of the chaotic nightmarish hubbub—a broad-shouldered figure, a gruff, sulky voice, suddenly became clear to her. "Oh!" she gasped. Ted took hold of her elbow and shouldered his way through the crowd. She submitted weakly, occupied chiefly in swallowing ignominious tears. She found herself being helped into a hansom. She heard him say, "Fuller’s—Regent Street." Then he seated himself beside her. "Is it—a station?" she asked. "No. You’re going to have some tea before you go home." "Oh!" There was a silence. She cudgelled dull brains for something to say, then having found it, turned it over and over in her mind, distrusting her voice, till it grew silly and meaningless, and she let it go. The silence got on her nerves; she almost began to laugh helplessly; she burst out in an odd voice:— "W-what a funny action the horse has!" "Took the first that came. Couldn’t wait to pick and choose." "Of course not," she hurried to agree with meek haste. The silence fell again. She cast a swift glance at Ted’s profile; it was very grim and very cross. She couldn’t let the silence last; it worried her past bearing. "Kate Kearney is getting perky," she said. "Yes?" said Ted. She began wildly:— "Ted—I—I—" and stopped. He did not help her, and she said no more. Presently the cab came to a standstill, and he helped her out. They went in, past the tempting sweets, on to warmth and lightness. The rush for tea was over, and there were not many people left now. They secured a little table and sat down. "What’ll you have?" he said curtly. "Oh—anything." He ordered tea and tea-cake. The band struck up with a selection from a popular musical play. She looked round quickly. "Oh, how lovely!" She poured out tea; he accepted his cup with a brief "thanks." She bent across the table to him. "Would you mind listening? I’m sure I’m purring all over." There was a tentative smile in her eyes. "Tea-cake?" he said. She took a piece with a sigh. Suddenly her laugh rang out, deliciously gay and glad. Coaxingly she bent towards him. "Don’t be cross, Ted! I’m so happy!" He frowned. "It was ridiculous of you," he began. "I know it was!" with gay insouciance. "But this isn’t the way to punish me, is it?" Her voice sank softly; she was radiant in the joy of the reaction. "You wouldn’t be spoiling it all, Teddie?" she coaxed. Unwillingly, his mouth relaxed into a smile; he caught it back with a quick, bad-tempered indrawing of his lips. "You’d better know—first—I followed you! Now bite my head off!" Her eyes opened wide. "All—the—way?" she said slowly. He nodded.