"I must sell the 'Apache!' Besides, if I don't: I tell you these strange, gray fogs are giving me new, wonderful thoughts--dark, mysterious--two figures meeting in the mist! Oh! but a wonderful combination that will be successful in all cases." Mirko pressed his arm round his sister's neck and kissed her cheek, while he cooed love words in a soft Slavonic language.

Two big tears gathered in Zara Shulski's deep eyes and made them tender as a dove's.
She drew out her purse and counted from it two sovereigns and some shillings which she slipped into Mirko's small hand.
"Keep these, pet, for an emergency," she said.

"They are all I have, but I will--I must--find some other way for you soon: and now I shall have to go.

If my uncle should suspect I am seeing you I might be powerless to help further." They walked with her to the Grosvenor Gate, and reluctantly let her leave them; and then they watched her, as she sped across the road between the passing taxi-cabs.

When they saw the light from the opening door and her figure disappearing between the tall servants who had come to open it, the two poor, shabby figures walked on with a sigh, to try to find an omnibus which would put them down somewhere near their dingy bedroom in Neville Street, Tottenham Court Road.