Then she made a resolutely charming ascent to the editorial rooms of the _Illustrated Age_.
Twenty minutes later she came down again, and the door was opened for her by Mr.Arthur Rattray, one of the sub-editors, a young man who had already distinguished himself on the staff of the _Age_ by his intelligent perception of paying matter, and his enterprise in securing it.

Elfrida continued to carry her opinions upon the social ideals of her native democracy in their much stained envelope, but there was a light in her eyes which seemed to be the reflection of success.
"It's still raining," said the young man cheerfully.
"So it is," Elfrida responded.

"And--oh, how atrocious of me!--I've left my umbrella in the cab!" "Hard luck!" exclaimed Mr.Rattray; "an umbrella is an organic part of one in London.

Shall I stop this 'bus ?" "Thanks, no.

I'll walk, I think.