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 upon the platform from the guard's van, and finally secured a taxi.

"Thank you very much indeed for—for everything," she said with a smile as she held out her hand.

"You will let me see you sometimes?" he pleaded.

"But I thought you were going away," she said smiling.

"Oh, 'the bird of time has still a little way to flutter,'" he quoted as the taxi jerked forward.

"To-morrow then," she cried.

He lifted his hat and turned to the business of securing his own luggage and another taxi.

At the Ritz-Carlton he found that the letter he had sent from Folkestone cancelling his room had miscarried, involving a still further drain into his already sadly depleted capital. These gradual inroads into the limited balance of his days were becoming disturbing.

By six o'clock he had discovered and taken a small furnished bachelor flat in St. James's Mansions, Jermyn Street, had transferred there from the Ritz-Carlton, and was on his way to call upon Drewitt.

As he was shown in by Hoskins, he found Edward Seymour just about to take his departure.

"Behold, my dear Teddy," said Drewitt, lazily waving his hand towards Beresford, "the personification of a spirit of romance that no Cervantes could have killed."

Edward Seymour looked from Beresford to