But he stood as when she had first seen him, the silhouette of a hawk with a broken nose, and he stared not at her but at the wind that blew the leaves about the little street. “It is not worth repeating,” he said sharply into the middle air. “But to what I said, I added, ‘Go very quickly,’ and I meant it--for your sake. This is a lonely place, Mrs. Avalon, and the cavalier of the streets is as nearly an outlaw as any one outside a cinema. It is a long time since I kissed a lady, and the only thing that restrains me from doing it now is the fact that I have never in my life kissed any one who did not wish to be kissed by me. So you had better go quickly, Fay Avalon.” She went, as swiftly as a shadow. IV Mrs. Avalon, after her first horrid experience, had had the forethought to keep in her jewel-safe a roll of Bank of England notes. That evening, having sent her maid from the room, she counted out five notes from the roll. She smiled wryly.... “And so,” she thought, “this is hell. And Fay Avalon is well in it, she is in a very ghastly hell.” Very slowly, very absently, she recounted the five ten-pound notes. They were clean and crisp and delicious, marvellously above the funny stuff that passes for money in France and America. They were symbols of a spacious England, of splendid adventures and gallant merchantmen, they were symbols of all the luxuries of _race_ and manners, dead now except in the hearts of a few shy people. A Bank of England note is the cleanest expression money has ever acquired, it is more than money, it decorates money. Only one of the five notes that passed through Mrs. Avalon’s fingers bore even a sign that other human hands had ever touched it, and that was but a little splash as of red ink on its back. She put them in an envelope, wrote “To C. O. S.” across it, and privily instructed the butler that he give it into the hands of the person who had already called once before and who _might_ call again towards noon the following morning. “The gentleman called, madam,” said Smith the next morning, when she came in from a walk for luncheon. “The gentleman, Smith?” “He had that manner, madam.” “There will be ten for luncheon, not eight, Smith.” “Major Cypress and Mr. Trevor rang up to inquire if you expected them to luncheon, madam. They seemed, I think, disappointed that you did not.” “They rang up together?” “Such was my impression, madam. They said that there must be some mistake about your not expecting them to luncheon as they had not been asked to luncheon anywhere else. On asking my opinion as to whether, if they called at about half-past one, you would or would not ask them to stay, I ventured to say, madam, that it was very probable. I gather that that will make twelve for luncheon, madam.” Mrs. Avalon smiled. “Very good, Smith.” “The gentleman who called left this letter, madam.” “Put it down over there. That will do, Smith, thank you.”