’Never?  Come to-morrow afternoon then.  You can spare the afternoon.  Let’s meet early somewhere.  Take a bus to London Bridge.  I’ll be at the north end of London Bridge at three o’clock.’

‘All right; I’ll be there,’ Nancy replied off-hand.

’You really will?  Three, sharp.  I was never late at an appointment, business or pleasure.’

‘Which do you consider this?’ asked his companion, with a shrewd glance.

’Now that’s unkind.  I came here to-night on business, though.  You quite understand that, didn’t you?  I shouldn’t like you to make any mistake.  Business, pure and simple.’

‘Why, of course,’ replied Nancy, with an ingenuous air.  ’What else could it be?’ And she added, ‘Don’t come any further.  Ta-ta!’

Crewe went off into the darkness.

The next afternoon, Nancy alighted at London Bridge a full quarter of an hour late.  It had been raining at intervals through the day, and clouds still cast a gloom over the wet streets.  Crewe, quite insensible to atmospheric influence, came forward with his wonted brisk step and animated visage.  At Miss.  Lord’s side he looked rather more plebeian than when walking by himself; his high-hat, not of the newest, utterly misbecame his head, and was always at an unconventional angle, generally tilting back; his clothes, of no fashionable cut, bore the traces of perpetual hurry and multifarious impact.  But he carried a perfectly new and expensive umbrella, to which, as soon as he had shaken hands with her, he drew Nancy’s attention.

’A present this morning, from a friend of mine in the business.  I ran into his shop to get shelter.  Upon my word, I had no intention; didn’t think anything about it.  However, he owed me an acknowledgment; I’ve sent him three customers from our office since I saw him last.  By-the-bye, I shall have half a day at the seaside on Monday.  There’s a sale of building-plots down at Whitsand.  The estate agents run a complimentary special train for people going down to bid, and give a lunch before the auction begins.  Not bad business.’

‘Are you going to bid?’ asked Nancy.

’I’m going to have a look, at all events; and if I see anything that takes my fancy—.  Ever been to Whitsand?  I’m told it’s a growing place.  I should like to get hold of a few advertising stations.—­ Where is it you are going to on Monday?  Teignmouth?  I don’t know that part of the country.  Wish I could run down, but I shan’t have time.  I’ve got my work cut out for August and September.  Would you like to come and see the place where I think of opening shop?’

‘Is it far?’

’No.  We’ll walk round when we’ve been up the Monument.  You don’t often go about the City, I daresay.  Nothing doing, of course, on a Saturday afternoon.’

Nancy made him moderate his pace, which was too quick for her.  Part of the pleasure she found in Crewe’s society came from her sense of being so undeniably his superior; she liked to give him a sharp command, and observe his ready obedience.  To his talk she listened with a good-natured, condescending smile, occasionally making a remark which implied a more liberal view, a larger intelligence, than his.  Thus, as they stood for a moment to look down at the steamboat wharf, and Crewe made some remark about the value of a cargo just being discharged, she said carelessly: