Mrs.Marlow, who looked daintier, prettier, more charming than ever, paid her driver, gave him a smiling nod, and tripped into New Court, a bundle of papers in her well-gloved hand.
"Business with Rothschild's, eh ?" mused Allerdyke.
"Well, I daresay there's a vast lot of folk in this city who do business across there.

Um!--smart little woman that, and no doubt as clever as she's smart.

I'd like to know--" Just then the ancient hall-porter of the club (who surely missed his vocation in life, and should have been a bishop, or at least a dean) ushered in Appleyard, whom Allerdyke immediately beckoned to join him amongst the window-curtains.
"I say!" he whispered, with a side glance at _The Times_-reading old gentleman, "you remember me telling you yesterday about the lady-secretary of Fullaway's--Mrs.Marlow ?--what a smart bit she looked to be.

Eh ?" "Well ?" replied Appleyard.

"Of course, what about her ?" "She's just gone into Rothschild's across there," answered Allerdyke.
"Come here, this corner; she'll be coming out before long, no doubt, and then you'll see her.