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 of the young man's gaze. "Old enough to be my father. But he's a dear; and if I ever marry anyone—which I never shall, of course—I don't think I should mind marrying him, although he's just celebrated his silver wedding, and he's got a family of eleven, seven girls and four boys, all with a broad enough accent to derail any tram in Blackhampton."

Yes; Mr. Philip enjoyed every moment of this little luncheon at Dieudonné's.

Before going to misspend his afternoon at one of his clubs, he accompanied the charmer as far as Bedford Gardens. They went on foot for the sake of the exercise, which she vowed she would rather die than do without; along the Strand if he didn't mind, because she loved it so.

The Strand was a wonderful place, they both agreed. Certainly, he had been in it before—often—though always on the way to the play or to supper at the Savoy. But he had to admit that this was the first time he had come to it in broad daylight as an amateur.

"You get more human nature to the square inch in the dear old Strand than any place in the world," said this young woman who had traveled the five continents in the exercise of her calling.

"Piper, miss. 'Orrible murder in the Borough."

Mary was proof against this lure, and with true feminine irrelevance proceeded to pile insult upon the