‘I didn’t think you had the pluck,’ said Fanny, swinging one of her feet as she tittered.

‘That shows you haven’t done me justice.’

‘And you’re going to stay out late at night?’

‘As late as I like,’ Horace answered, crossing his arms.

‘Then where will you take me to-morrow?’

It happened that Horace was in funds just now; he had received his quarter’s salary.  Board and lodging were no expense to him; he provided his own clothing, but, with this exception, had to meet no serious claim.  So, in reply to Fanny’s characteristic question, he jingled coins.

‘Wherever you like.—­“Dorothy,” “Ruddigore—­“’

Delighted with his assent, she became more gracious, permitted a modest caress, and presently allowed herself to be drawn on to her lover’s knee.  She was passive, unconcerned; no second year graduate of the pavement could have preserved a completer equanimity; it did not appear that her pulse quickened ever so slightly, nor had her eyelid the suspicion of a droop.  She hummed ‘Queen of my Heart,’ and grew absent in speculative thought, whilst Horace burned and panted at the proximity of her white flesh.

‘Oh, how I do love you, Fanny!’

She trod playfully on his toe.

‘You haven’t told the old gentleman yet?’

’I—­I’m thinking about it.  But, Fanny, suppose he was to—­to refuse to do anything for us.  Would it make any difference?  There are lots of people who marry on a hundred and fifty a year—­oh lots!’

The maiden arched her brows, and puckered her lips.  Hitherto it had been taken for granted that Mr. Lord would be ready with subsidy; Horace, in a large, vague way, had hinted that assurance long ago.  Fanny’s disinclination to plight her troth—­she still deemed herself absolutely free—­had alone interfered between the young man and a definite project of marriage.

‘What kind of people?’ she asked coldly.

‘Oh—­respectable, educated people, like ourselves.’

’And live in apartments?  Thank you; I don’t quite see myself.  There isn’t a bit of hurry, dear boy.  Wait a bit.’  She began to sing ’Wait till the clouds roll by.’

‘If you thought as much of me as I do of you—­’

Tired of her position, Fanny jumped up and took a spoonful of sweet jelly from a dish on the table.

‘Have some?’

’Come here again.  I’ve something more to tell you.  Something very important.’

She could only be prevailed upon to take a seat near him.  Horace, beset with doubts as to his prudence, but unable to keep the secret, began to recount the story of his meeting with Mrs. Damerel, whom he had now seen for the second time.  Fanny’s curiosity, instantly awakened, grew eager as he proceeded.  She questioned with skill and pertinacity, and elicited many more details than Nancy Lord had been able to gather.

‘You’ll promise me not to say a word to any one?’ pleaded Horace.