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stairs by the aid of the handrail, in a way she could adopt on an emergency. When she had opened the door she found Sam on the step, and he lifted her bodily on his strong arm across the little forecourt into his vehicle. Not a soul was visible or audible in the infinite length of the straight, flat highway, with its ever-waiting lamps converging to points in each direction. The air was fresh ay country air at this hour, and the stars shone, except to the north-eastward, where there was a whitish light—the dawn. Sam carefully placed her in the seat and drove on,

They talked aa they had talked in old days, Sam polling himself up now and then, when he thought himeelf too familiar. More than once she said with misgiving that she wondered if she ought to have indulged in the freak. “But I am so lonely in my house,” she added, “and thie makes me so happy!”

“You most come again, dear Mre, Twycott. There is no time o? day for taking the air like this.”

It grew lighter and lighter. The sparrows became busy in the streets, and the city waxed denser around them. When they approached the river it was day, sud on the bridge they beheld the full blaze of morning sunlight in the direction of St. Paul's, the river glistening towards it, and not a craft stirring.

Near Covent Garden he put her into a cab, and they parted, looking into each other’s faces like the very old friends they were. She reached home without adventure, limped to the door, and let herself in with her lateh-key unseen,

The air and Sam's presence had revived her; her cheeks were quite pink—almost beautiful. She had something to live for in addition to her son, A woman of pure instincts, she knew there had been nothing really wrong in the jouraey, but supposed it conventionally to be very wrong indeed.