“Silver, yes—it’s just a hobby; but there’s nothing to it; it amuses me, and circulates the coin. What I miss is a live, human interest.”

“I know,” and she nodded, “such as a son or a daughter. Yes, I’d be thankful to go back to dish-washing, cooking, and slavery, for that.”

“Now would you, Lizzie? Well, I must confess I could not help envying the party last night at the next table—father, mother, two pretty daughters, son in the Guards, and friend—what a cheery lot they were; so gay and genial and happy.”

“It’s a pity we could never trace your brother’s widow.”

“I expect she’s out in Australia. I wrote to Humphrey after we were married, and he sent me a lecture as a wedding-present. He was no longer at Government House; but he did not mention his job. I say, you know we dine early, and have stalls at the Haymarket, so you’d better go and dress, and I’ll run down and look at the tape.”

Leonard Harling was a well-known collector and authority on old silver; his name was frequently quoted in articles, he was a personage of importance in sale rooms, and catalogues pursued him wherever he went. What he enjoyed and delighted in was to poke about among dingy little antiquary shops or pawn-offices. A window full of what looked like rubbish invariably held his attention, and more than once he had picked up a prize.

One afternoon he and his wife were staring into a mixed collection in a pawnbroker’s in Soho. Here were strings of coral, scraps of old lace, bits of china, spotted prints, and a few battered watches, and teapots.

“Do you see that sugar-bowl?” said Mrs. Harling. “Black—possibly pewter—but a nice old shape.”

“Yes, how sharp you are, Liz. You mean the one full of glass beads. I’ll just go in and have a look at it.”

The shop was squalid and common, and evidently traded with the really poor; clothes and boots were piled up within, and there was also an assortment of cheap clocks and umbrellas. The assistant, a young Hebrew with glossy hair, wore many rings, and from the private premises came an appetising smell of fried fish.