interfered. It is now your privilege to knock me down. Come on the shingle, where the police can't see us, and do it."
There was a great laugh from the bargee's comrades, but one of them said admiringly:
"That's the way to talk. Get down the steps."
Stranleigh ran down the steps to the shingle, lifted his hat to the girl, and said:
"Would you mind taking a stroll towards Battersea Bridge? My friend above and I have a little difference of opinion on a point of etiquette."
"You're surely not going to fight?" cried the girl with alarm.
"Oh, dear no, I shouldn't think of such a thing. I'm merely going to play with him."
"Shall I take my easel and camp-stool?"
"No, don't trouble about them. Are you a professional painter?"
"I'm trying to be."
"Then I wish to buy this mud-stained picture as a souvenir of the occasion."
"Oh, it's completely spoilt," she said. "I'll do you another."
"I want this one. My name is Tom Pitts. Will you tell me yours?"
"I am Alice Drummond," she answered, a little surprised at his abruptness.
"May I introduce to you my friend, Professor
