Rokeby felt a certain triumph in capturing Julia.  Besides her modern fighting quality, to which he was not entirely antagonistic, he realised that she was a pleasure to the eye, a well-tailored, handsome girl, town-bred, town-poised, of the neat, trim type so approved by the male eye.  She knew her value too.  She made a man think.  Cheap attentions she would have handed back as trash, without thanks, to the donor.  She conferred a favour, but would never receive one.  Her self-assurance was no less than royal, and a word or touch in violation would have been stamped a rank impertinence.  Rokeby, who had made the same pleasant uses of taxicabs as most men about town, knew all this with a half-sigh.

“Where would you like to dine?” he asked.  “What kind of a place do you like?”

“A quiet place, to-night,” said Julia; “it’s better for talking, and this evening I’ve got to talk to someone.”

Whereby she flattered Rokeby more than by any degree of easy flirtation which other women might have permitted, as they sped along the ever-brightening streets.

“We’ll go to the Pall Mall, if you like, Miss Winter; it’s little, it’s good, it’s quiet; interesting people go there; we’ll make two more.  How about that?”

“It’ll do excellently.”

“We shall probably get a balcony table if all those downstairs are booked.”

As Rokeby said, they were in time for a balcony table, and he ordered dinner and wine before recurring to his former question.

“What was all the mystery about No. 30?”

“I don’t call it a mystery; it was just a very ordinary domestic proposition; I didn’t want them to be interrupted this evening, because, you see—­you will laugh—­”

“No, I swear I won’t; do tell me.”

“Marie wants to ask for a perambulator.”

“’Him’?”

“Yes, him.  Who’s always ‘him’ to the household—­the husband, the tyrant, the terror.  Ugh!”

“Oh, come, Miss Winter.  Osborn Kerr—­I’ve known him for years; there’s nothing of the tyrant and the terror about him.  Why this embroidery of the sad tale?”

“Well, why was Marie afraid to ask him, then?”

“I don’t know anything about it.  I’m at a disadvantage with you, it seems.”

“I’m quite willing to tell you; that’s what I’m dining with you for, isn’t it?”

“Is it?” said Rokeby, with a very charming smile which but few women knew.

She hurried on:  “Yes, it is.  You see, I didn’t want you to come in and spoil it all, prevent Marie from asking her husband for the perambulator.”

“You were awf’ly thoughtful, and I’m sure I didn’t want to chip in at the wrong moment; but, I say, would it have mattered so much?  Because I’d love to know why; you’re interesting me, you know.  She could have asked him another time, couldn’t she?”

“You see, she was all ready to-night.”

“’All ready’?”

“She put on the frock she was married in; and there was the whipped cream he’s so fond of, with a cherry pie; and it all seemed so propitious that I thought it would be a pity if you spoilt it.”