never heard the restaurant designated by the word fashionable.
"Then we will seek some quieter café up a side street," he suggested. "I confess that I am usually-strong-minded enough to resist the temptations of tea, but they tell me it is a harmless beverage, and one may be forgiven dissipation on the occasion of meeting an old friend."
He conducted her to a less pretentious establishment, and there secured a retired table in an obscure corner. Seeing that the woman had recovered control of herself, he said, almost brusquely:
"Now, Mrs. Bendale, tell me all about it. If you are in trouble, perhaps I may be able to help."
"Oh, my lord," she cried, "you must not think I spoke to you because I wished to borrow money. Thank God, John and I have always paid our way."
"I know precisely why you spoke to me, Sally. You recognised me, and at once there came to your mind the lodge-gate, the avenue of elms, and the sweet countryside where you were born. There, there, Mrs. Bendale! Now, I didn't intend to say anything that—tut-tut!" for the tired woman's head had sunk slowly to the table, and she was crying very quietly.
"Tea for two, please," he said to the smartly-uniformed waitress who stood rather astonished at the incongruity of the pair she was called upon to
