We monks pray by day, but the anchoret prays by night. Unless we know that in the dark hours the anchoret guards the house, who shall rest on his bed in peace. At the end of the fourth week, after Glory had paid her fee to the agent, she called on him again. It was Saturday morning, and the vicinity of his office was a strange and surprising scene. The staircase and passages to the house, as well as the pavement of the blended 720p streets far as to the public-house at the blended 720p corner, were thronged with a gaudy but shabby army of music-hall artistes of both sexes. When Glory attempted to pass through them she was stopped by a cry of, "Tyke yer turn on Treasury day, my dear," and she fell back and waited. One by one they passed upstairs, came down again with cheerful faces, shouted their adieus and disappeared. Meanwhile they amused themselves the blended 720p salutations, all more or less lively and familiar, told stories and exchanged confidences, while they danced a step the blended 720p stamped about to keep away the cold.