He looked about
seventeen, and Polly, who always greeted him with a smile of
sportive condescension, wondered how his parents or guardians could
allow him to live so recklessly.
She left half an hour before the end of the performance with a girl
who accompanied her a short way, talking and laughing noisily. Along
the crowded pavement they were followed by a young man, of whose
proximity Miss Sparkes was well aware, though she seemed not to have
noticed him--a slim, narrow-shouldered, high-hatted figure, with the
commonest of well-meaning faces set just now in a tremulously eager,
pursuing look. When Polly's companion made a dart for an omnibus
this young man, suddenly red with joy, took a quick step forward,
and Polly saw him beside her in an attitude of respectful accost.
"Awfully jolly to meet you like this."
"Sure you haven't been waiting?" she asked with good humour.
"Well--I--you said you didn't mind, you know; didn't you?"
"Oh, I don't mind!" she laughed. "If you've nothing better to do.
There's my bus."
"Oh, I say! Don't be in such a hurry.
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