"I thought it must be you," exclaimed the young man. "I am glad to see you. You passed me in a hurry just now, and never noticed me, so I took the liberty of following you. How do you do? I didn't know you were in town."
"I have been in town for over a fortnight," replied Florence. She found herself colouring, then turning pale.
"Is anything the matter? You don't look well."
"I am tired, that is all."
"May I walk part of the way home with you? It is nice to meet an old friend."
"Just as you please," replied Florence.
"Where do you live?"
"I am in a house in Westminster—12, Prince's Mansion, it is called. It is a curious sort of place, and let out in rooms to girls like myself. There is a restaurant downstairs. It is a nice, convenient place, and it is not dear. I think myself very lucky to have a room there."
"I suppose you are," assented Trevor, "but it sounds extraordinary. Do you like living alone in London?"
"I have no choice," replied Florence.