The first realization in a woman of her failure to attract is the beginning of every woman's tragedy.
"Never seen my rooms, have you ?" he added.
"No; never expected to." "Come in and see them now and have a talk." "You don't mean that ?" Eagerness dragged it out of her.
"Come along," he said; "they're just down here--in Regent Street." She followed him silently--silently, but in that moment her spirits had lifted.

There was a wider swing in her walk.

But he took no notice of that; he was not observant.
She hummed a tune with a rather pretty voice as she walked up the flights of stairs behind him.
"Gosh! it's dark," she exclaimed.
"Oh, it's none of your bachelor flats with lifts and attendants and electric lights," he replied.
On the third landing she stopped--out of breath again.
"Tired ?" he said.
"There--" she laid a hand on her chest and breathed heavily.

Then she moved a step nearer to him.
"Give us a kiss, dearie," she whispered.
He retreated a step.

"My dear child--I didn't want you for that.