William made his way towards the tent of the Woman of Mystery. But there was an ice-cream stall on his way and William could not pass it. Robert and Ethel, glasses of fashion and moulds of form, passed at the minute. At the sight of William with torn coat and jersey, dirty scratched face, no cap and tousled hair, consuming ice-cream horns among a crowd of his social inferiors, a shudder passed through both of them. They felt that William was a heavy handicap to them in Life’s race.
“Send him home,” said Robert.
“I simply wouldn’t be seen speaking to him,” replied Ethel.
William, having satisfied his craving for ice-cream with the greater part of his entrance money, wandered on towards the tent of the Woman of Mystery. He entered it by crawling under the canvas at the back. The Woman of Mystery happened to be having a slack time. The tent was empty.
AT THE SIGHT OF WILLIAM A SHUDDER PASSED THROUGH
BOTH OF THEM. THEY FELT THAT WILLIAM WAS A HEAVY
HANDICAP TO THEM IN LIFE’S RACE.
“He’s come,” announced William. “He’s waiting outside.”
“Who?” said the Woman of Mystery.
“The one wot you’ve got a photo of. You know. He’s jus’ by the gate.”
“Oh, dear!” gasped the Woman of Mystery. “Does he want me?”