“Stand back， please！” he train was about to start， and I waved farewell to my friend. Le Ros did not stand back. He stood clasping in both hands the hands of the young American.“Stand back， sir， please！” he obeyed， but quickly darted forward again to whisper some final word. I think there were tears in her eyes. There certainly were tears in his when， at length， having watched the train out of sight， he turned round. He seemed， nevertheless， delighted to see me. He asked me where I had been hiding all these years； and simultaneously repaid me the half-crown as though it had been borrowed yesterday. He linked his arm in mine， and walked with me slowly along the platform， saying with what pleasure he read my dramatic criticisms every Saturday.
I told him， in return， how much he was missed on the stage. “Ah， yes，” he said， “I never acton the stage nowadays.” He laid some emphasis on the word“stage.” and I asked him where， then， he did act. “On the platform，” he answered. “You mean，” said I， “that you recite at concerts？” He smiled.“This，” he whispered， striking his stick on the ground， “is the platform I mean.” Had his mysterious prosperity unhinged him？ He looked quite sane. I begged him to be more explicit.
“I suppose，” he said presently， giving me a light for the cigar which he had offered me， “You have been seeing a friend off？ I assented. He asked me what I supposed he had been doing. I said that I had watched him doing the same thing. “No，” he said gravely. “That lady was not a friend of mine. I met her for the first time this morning， less than half an hour ago， here.” and again he struck the platform with his stick.
I confessed that I was bewildered. He smiled. “You may，” he said， “have heard of the Anglo-American Social Bureau？ I had not. He explained to me that of the thousands of Americans who annually pass through England there are many hundreds who have no English friends. In the old days they used to bring letters of introduction. But the English are so inhospitable that these letters are hardly worth the paper they are written on. ” Thus， “aid Le Ros，” the A.A.S.B. supplies a long-felt want. Americans are a sociable people， and most of them have plenty of money to spend. The A.A.S.B. supplies them with English friends. Fifty percent of the fees is paid over to the friends. The other fifty is retained by the A.A.S.B. I am not， alas！ A director. If I were， I should be a very rich man indeed. I am only an employee. But even so I do very well. I am one of the seers-off.