St. John desisted then and put on coals instead, piling them up with an equally lavish hand; then he struck a match and set light to the erection which was soon blazing and cracking merrily. "I told you so," he cried triumphantly looking up at her as she stood a little behind him regarding with a somewhat rueful smile the very unnecessary extravagance. "That will be as hot as blazes before long. Come a little nearer; you look cold." He fetched her a chair and Jill sat down and held her hands to the warmth. She was cold--cold, and tired, and shaken. Her head ached badly too, and all the fight seemed taken out of her; she could only sit there enjoying the rest, experiencing the pleasurable novelty of being waited upon, and of having someone to talk to again. "And now," exclaimed St. John, taking his stand before her with his grimy hands held at awkward angles from his clothes, "tell me how you managed to hurt yourself. Is it a sprain?" "I don't know what it is, a mere scratch, I think," she answered. "It happened when I was out this morning." "Indeed! an accident then?" His tone was sympathetic and interested. Jill expanded further. "Yes," she replied, sinking her chin in the palm of her right hand and resting her elbow on her knee. "A female horror on wheels rode over me." "What, a cyclist?" Jill nodded. "You don't approve of biking then?" "Oh! I don't know," she answered. "I suppose I should if I had one of my own. It isn't the machine that I'm disparaging now but the rider. Some people seem to think that the metropolis belongs to them, and that you ought to apply to them for the privilege of residing in it. She was one of that sort." "But it was not purposely done?" "No, I suppose not, as it occasioned her the great inconvenience of stepping off into the mud, but it was sheer carelessness all the same. I was crossing the road, and it was a case of being run over by a hansom, or biked over; I preferred the latter." "Did you find out who she was?" he asked. "Yes," replied Jill, feeling in her pocket. "I have her card. She was very gracious, and wished me to apply to her if I wanted money, hinting delicately at a doctor's fee, or something of the sort. I took her card out of curiosity, and walked into the nearest chemists', having the satisfaction of hearing her say to someone as I went, that she would see that I had compensation, poor girl! so stupid to have run right in front of her wheel." "Prig!" muttered St. John. "There's the card. You can throw it into the fire when you've done with it; I shall make no application." He took it from her, glanced at it, and then gave vent to an involuntary exclamation of surprise. Jill looked up. "You know the name?" she questioned. "Rather!" "A friend of yours?" "Well--yes, I suppose so; she's a sort of connection." Jill compressed her mouth, and stared fixedly at the fire; the situation was a little awkward.