It is about time we were starting if you expect to reach it." Joyce made a final dab at her picture, dropped the brush and hurried into the next room for her wraps.

It seemed to Phil that he had scarcely turned around till she was back again, hatted and gloved.

The artist in the long apron had given place to a stylish tailor-made girl in a brown street-suit.

Phil looked down at her approvingly as they stepped out into the wintry air together.
The great show windows were ablaze with lights by this time, and the rush of the crowds almost took her off her feet.

Phil at her elbow piloted her along to a corner where they were to take a car.
"I'm glad that I happened along to take you under my wing," he said.
"You ought not to be out alone on the streets at night." "It isn't six o'clock yet," she answered.