"Hallo!" said George. "Who's going to be 'Queen o' the May' to-day?"
"That's Gray," whispered Matthews; "see him skip up the step?"
George turned in time to catch the graceful back-kick of a tweed leg as somebody disappeared through the door.
"Seems to have an elastic step this morning."
"It's the Leytonstone air," said Matthews; "you get it like that off Wanstead Flats."
"P'raps so," said George; "I don't think he got that off Wanstead Flats. I think I know where he got it."
"Where?"
"You get on with your work, and don't be inquisitive."
Gray's exuberance had calmed down towards the middle of the day, and when he started out in search of lunch his face wore a more thoughtful expression. The elasticity of his step was not at all noticeable, if it existed. It is doubtful if one in twenty of the people he met would have guessed that he had recently come into five hundred pounds a year, or even fivepence.
In Queen Victoria Street he stopped on the kerbstone, and looked about him. Hungry clerks and typists flitted by in quest of milk and buns. Gray chinked his money and crossed the road. Before turning up a narrow side street he stopped again, and looked round. Then he carefully walked on.