Ernestine Wendermott travelled back to London in much discomfort, being the eleventh occupant of a third-class carriage in a particularly unpunctual and dilatory train.

Arrived at Waterloo, she shook out her skirts with a little gesture of relief and started off to walk to the Strand.

Half-way across the bridge she came face to face with a tall, good-looking young man who was hurrying in the opposite direction.

He stopped short as he recognised her, dropped his eyeglass, and uttered a little exclamation of pleasure.
"Ernestine, by all that's delightful! I am in luck to-day!" She smiled slightly and gave him her hand, but it was evident that this meeting was not wholly agreeable to her.
"I don't quite see where the luck comes in," she answered.

"I have no time to waste talking to you now.