I was going to ask you"-- he panted--"if you'd come and have just a little supper, if you wouldn't mind." "Nonsense! You know you can't afford it." "Oh, yes, I can--quite well.

It would be awfully kind of you." Polly laughed a careless acceptance, and they pressed through the roaring traffic of cross-ways towards an electric glare.

In a few minutes they were seated amid plush and marble, mirrors and gilding, in a savoury and aromatic atmosphere.

Nothing more delightful to Polly, who drew off her gloves and made herself thoroughly comfortable, whilst the young man--his name was Christopher Parish--nervously scanned a bill of fare.

As his bearing proved, Mr.Parish was not quite at home amid these splendours.