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That night something happened to Bliss which he had anticipated many times in his dreams since the day when he had marched out of the shop in Regent Street with his working clothes in a parcel under his arm, and a queer and most unaccountable lump in his throat. He had taken his usual respectful adieu of his employer and was walking rather aimlessly down King Street, when he came face to face with two girls. The one nearest to him was the young lady who had visited Mr. Cockerill on the first afternoon of his engagement. The other he recognised with a thrill of pleasure--a pleasure that came to him almost as a shock. It was Frances Clayton.
"Mr. Bliss!" she exclaimed, stopping abruptly on the pavement before him. "Why, whatever--How delightful to see you again!" she broke off with quick tact.