He had been denied even the opportunities for securing a scholarship through the council schools, for his association with the unbeautiful school in Latimer Road had ended abruptly when he found himself the sole support of a widowed mother at the age of fourteen. Errand boy, printers' devil, shop boy, clerk—he had progressed till the death of his mother had shocked him to a realization of actualities. Tragic as that death had been, it had offered him a larger opportunity for advancing himself. His tiny income, which had sufficed for both, now offered a margin of surplus, and he had thrown himself into new fields of study.

    There are thousands of Gordon Brays in the world: young men fighting bravely against almost insuperable odds. Handicapped by a lack of influence, they must fight for their own openings, and woe to them if they have no goal or, having one, deviate by one hairbreadth from the path they have set themselves.

    The girl looked at him kindly. She was not in love with this good-looking boy, nor he with her. Between them existed a sympathy rarer than love. They were fellow-fighters in the big conflict of life, possessed common enemies, found similar inspirations.

    "I'm off to the 'Tec,'" he said, and swung a bundle of books without shame. "I'm getting so tired of Holdron's—they raised my salary by five shillings a week to-day and expected me to be overwhelmed with gratitude."

    She wanted to tell him her great news, but the fear that even a tiny spark of envy might be kindled in his heart stopped her. She would tell him another time when he was more cheerful.

    "How are the models?" she asked. His goal was architecture, and those splendid models of his were the joy of his life. Moreover, they had material value, for he had won two gold medals at the school with a couple.

    A momentary cloud passed over his face; then he grinned cheerfully.

    "Oh, they're all right," he said, and with a nod left her.

    She ran up the stairs lightheartedly, passing on her way Mrs. Gritter's disreputable daughter already far advanced in intoxication. Mrs. Gritter brought the inevitable tea herself, and offered the inevitable comments on the weather and the inevitable apology for her daughter's condition.

    "I'm going to leave you, Mrs. Gritter," said the girl.

    "Oh, indeed?" Mrs. Gritter felt such occasions called for an expression of injured innocence. She regarded "notice" in the 'light of a censure upon her domestic capacities.

    "I—I've got something better to do," the girl went on; "and I can afford a little more rent—"

    "There's the first floor front, with foldin' doors," suggested Mrs. Gritter hopefully. "If you could afford another ten shillings."

    The girl shook her head laughingly.

    "Thank you, Mrs. Gritter," she said; "but I want to live nearer my work—"

    "Tube practically opposite the 'ouse," persisted the landlady; "'buses to and fro, so to speak. It's very hard on me losin' two lodgers in a week."

    "Two?" asked the girl in surprise.

    The landlady nodded.

    "Between you and me and the gatepost," she said confidentially and polishing her spectacles with the corner of her alpaca apron, "Mr. Bray has been a trial—always behind with his rent an' owes me three weeks."

    The girl was shocked. She had never troubled to inquire into the young man's affairs. She knew, of course, that he was not any too well off, but it never occurred to her that he was so desperately hard up. She understood now the bitterness in his voice when he spoke of his five shillings rise.

    "It's studying that does it," said Mrs. Gritter mournfully; "wastin' money on puttin' things in your head instead of puttin' 'em in your stummick an' on your back. What's the good of it? Education! It fills the prisons an' the workhouses and—and the army!"

    She had a son in the army, and she bore the junior service a grudge in consequence; for sons in Southwark mean a contribution to the family finance.

    The girl bit her lip in thought.

    "Perhaps," she hesitated. "Perhaps if I were to pay you—the arrears?"

    A gleam came into the landlady's eyes only to vanish again. .

    "That's no good," she said.