The mere fact that he was there in the train alongside her, helping her, sitting opposite to her in the dining-car, presently sleeping on a seat within a yard of her, made her heart sing until she was afraid their fellow passengers would hear it. “How odd that I should almost spring into your arms just on my doorstep!” she remarked gaily. "What's that to you?" retorted Jack, surlily. This is your room. ” “It is Number 8, Cavendish Square,” she answered simply. This was number 13, Montague Street, familiarly spoken of in the neighbourhood as “White’s. The poor boy, imagining things! "That's want of substantial food.
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