THE SPHINX OF LINCOLN'S INN At the age of twenty-six one cannot claim to have attained to the position of a person of experience.

Nevertheless, the knowledge of human nature accumulated in that brief period sufficed to make me feel pretty confident that, at some time during the evening, I should receive a visit from Miss Oman.

And circumstances justified my confidence; for the clock yet stood at two minutes to seven when a premonitory tap at the surgery door heralded her arrival.
"I happened to be passing," she explained, and I forbore to smile at the coincidence, "so I thought I might as well drop in and hear what you wanted to ask me about." She seated herself in the patients' chair and, laying a bundle of newspapers on the table, glared at me expectantly.
"Thank you, Miss Oman," I said.

"It is very good of you to look in on me.

I am ashamed to give you all this trouble about such a trifling matter." She rapped her knuckles impatiently on the table.
"Never mind about the trouble," she exclaimed tartly.
"What--is--it--that--you--want--to--_ask_--me about ?" I stated my difficulties in respect of the supper-party, and, as I proceeded, an expression of disgust and disappointment spread over her countenance.