PEAR BLOSSOM Weighed down by her three parcels, the little model pursued her way to Hound Street.

At the door of No.

1 the son of the lame woman, a tall weedy youth with a white face, was resting his legs alternately, and smoking a cigarette.

Closing one eye, he addressed her thus: "'Allo, miss! Kerry your parcels for you ?" The little model gave him a look.

'Mind your own business!' it said; but there was that in the flicker of her eyelashes which more than nullified this snub.
Entering her room, she deposited the parcels on her bed, and untied the strings with quick, pink fingers.