MISS MAT FIELD'S NEW YEAR

Bundle's man, had polished off his gigantic helping of
beef, and Miss Matfield had eaten about a third of her
mutton, he had a savoury and she had some apple tart
and cream.

"We'll finish the wine before we have coffee," said
Mr. Golspie, pointing the bottle at her glass, which she
had emptied. "It's a good burgundy this."

"Only about half a glass, please. It's lovely rich sun-
shiny stuff, but I daren't drink much more. I feel as
if I'd had about fifteen of my Club dinners rolled into
one. I don't believe I shall ever be hungry again/'

"You look well on it," said Mr. Golspie, who perhaps
looked a shade too well on it himself. "You've a fine
colour, Miss Matfield, and your eyes are sparkling, and
altogether you look full of fight and fun, too good for
Angel Pavement, I can tell you/'

"Oh, but I am," she cried humorously* She suddenly
felt that life was rich and gay.

"Of course you are. I said that to myself the first time
I set eyes on you. There's a girl with some spirit and
sense, I thought—she's alive, not like these other poor
devils. 'She don't belong/ I said to myself. That's why
I kept my eye on you. Did you notice me keeping my
eye on you?"

"Mmmm, ye'es," looking at him and hoping that her
eyes were still sparkling. "Sometimes I thought you
seemed quite human/*

"Human!" he roared, so that a waiter jumped for-
ward. "I'm human enough, I can tell you. I'm a dam*
sight too human."

"If you're in the City, you can't be too human, Mr.
Golspie. Not for me. I've spent months there some-
times and never spoken to anyone who seemed to me