Don't seem to have ever heard of being alive. Never goes near a
Music Hall from one year's end to the other."
Lewisham heard a shrill whistle, made a run for the lift and caught it
just on the point of departure. The lift was unlit and full of black
shadows; only the sapper who conducted it was distinct. As Lewisham
peered doubtfully at the dim faces near him, a girl's voice addressed
him by name.
"Is that you, Miss Heydinger?" he answered. "I didn't see, I hope you
have had a pleasant vacation."
CHAPTER IX.
ALICE HEYDINGER.
When he arrived at the top of the building he stood aside for the only
remaining passenger to step out before him. It was the Miss Heydinger
who had addressed him, the owner of that gilt-edged book in the cover
of brown paper. No one else had come all the way up from the ground
floor. The rest of the load in the lift had emerged at the
"astronomical" and "chemical" floors, but these two had both chosen
"zoology" for their third year of study, and zoology lived in the
attics. She stepped into the light, with a rare touch of colour
springing to her cheeks in spite of herself. Lewisham perceived an
alteration in her dress. Perhaps she was looking for and noticed the
transitory surprise in his face.
The previous session--their friendship was now nearly a year old--it
had never once dawned upon him that she could possibly be pretty.
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