to have something to carry away with you, something not too cold,
something that burns a little with the beginnings of life and love, and,
if you will, perhaps hope. May that content you for a little while, for
you see, although I am not a girl, these things, and thoughts of these
things, are new to me?"

He drew a little breath. It seemed to him that there was no more
beautiful place on earth than this little smoke-hung corner of the
restaurant. The words which escaped from his lips were vibrant,
tremulous.

"I am your slave. I will wait. There is no one like you in the world."



CHAPTER X

Tallente found a distant connection of his waiting for him in his
rooms, on his return from the House at about half-past six,--Spencer
Williams, a young man who, after a brilliant career at Oxford, had
become one of the junior secretaries to the Prime Minister. The young
man rose to his feet at Tallente's entrance and hastened to explain his
visit.

"You'll forgive my waiting, sir," he begged. "Your servant told me that
you were dining out and would be home before seven o'clock to change."

"Quite right, Spencer," Tallente replied. "Glad to see you. Whisky and
soda or cocktail?"