"By the by," he enquired suddenly, "how did you come in? Where was your grandfather?"
"Grandfather was asleep in the easy chair," she told him. "I came through on tiptoe. Like to keep yourself private down here, don't you?"
"Part of my training," he replied. "I can't work unless I am absolutely alone and undisturbed."
She leaned against his bench and raised her foot as though to look at the patent tip of her shoe. He was privileged to behold a goodly number of inches of silk-clad limb.
"What are you doing to-night," she asked, "after work?"
He shook his head disconsolately.
"Your grandfather is a hard taskmaster," he grumbled. "I generally stick on here until I'm tired out."
"We'll see about that," she promised. "Would you like ... Oh, bother!" she broke off. "I promised to go to the pictures with Stolly Wykes."
Her companion's faint sigh of regret was very cleverly assumed.
"Perhaps another evening, then," he suggested.