The young man blushed at the sound of his Christian name.  He was mollified despite himself.

“I suppose it’s got to be the same thing all over again,” he declared resignedly.  “You’ll talk to me and let me be near you—­and make a fool of me all round; and then you’ll go away, and heaven knows when I’ll see you again.  You won’t let me take you home, and won’t tell me where you live, or who your friends are.  You do treat me precious badly, Miss Violet.”

“This time,” she said quietly, “it will not be the same.  I have something quite serious to say to you.”

“Something serious—­you?  Go on!” he exclaimed in excitement.

“Have you found another place yet?”

“No.  I haven’t really tried.  I have a little money saved, and I could get one tomorrow if—­”

She stopped him with a smiling gesture.

“I don’t mean that—­yet,” she said.  “I wanted to know whether it would be possible for you to go away for a little time, if someone paid all your expenses.”

“To go away!” he repeated blankly.  “What for?”

Mademoiselle Violet leaned a little nearer to him.

“My mistress asked me yesterday,” she said, “if I knew anyone who could be trusted who would go away, at a moment’s notice, on an errand for her.”

“Your mistress,” he repeated.  “You really are a lady’s maid, then, are you?”

“Of course!” she answered impatiently.  “Haven’t I told you so before?  Now what do you say?  Will you go?”

“I dunno,” he answered thoughtfully.  “If it had been for you, I don’t know that I’d have minded.  I ain’t fond of traveling.”

“It is for me,” she interrupted hastily.  “If I can find her anyone who will do what she wants, she will make my fortune.  She has promised.  And then—­”

“Well, and then?”

Mademoiselle Violet looked at him thoughtfully.

“I should not make any promises,” she said demurely, “but things would certainly be different.”

The young man’s blood was stirred.  Mademoiselle Violet stood to him for the whole wonderful world of romance, into which he had peered dimly from behind the counter of an Islington emporium.  Her low voice—­so strange to his ears after the shrill chatter of the young ladies of his acquaintance—­the mystery of her coming and going, all went to give color to the single dream of his unimaginative life.  Apart from her, he was a somewhat vulgar, entirely commonplace young man, of saving habits, and with some aptitude for business, in a small way.  He had been well on his way to becoming a small but successful shopkeeper, thereby realizing the only ideals which had yet presented themselves to him, when Madame Violet had unconsciously intervened.  Of what might become of him now he had no clear conception of himself.

“I’ll go!” he declared.

Mademoiselle Violet’s eyes flashed behind her veil.  Her fingers touched his for a moment.