’Oh, I’ve had a bit of a cold; nothing
to speak of. You been out of sorts?’
‘A little run down. Over-study, they say.’
Horace looked his surprise.
‘Why, I didn’t know you went in for that
kind of thing.’
’Didn’t you? I’ve been studying
abroad for a long time. Thinking of taking a
place as French teacher in some tip-top high school.’
’I am very glad to hear it. Capital idea.
Sure I hope you’ll be successful.’
’Thanks awf’ly. Tell me something
about yourself. Why, it’s two years since
we saw each other, isn’t it? Are you married
yet?’
Horace smiled and coloured.
’No, no—not yet. I’m in
business with Luckworth Crewe,—sort of
sleeping partner just now.’
‘Are you really? And how’s your sister?’
The young man bent his brows uncomfortably.
‘Don’t you know anything about her?’
he asked.
‘I’ve heard she’s married.’
’Yes, a man called Tarrant. Very clever
fellow; he writes for the papers.—I say,
Miss. French, I generally have a glass of wine
and a biscuit, at the confectioner’s, about
this time. Will you give me the pleasure of your
company?’
’Charmee, Monsieur! I generally
go in for the same kind of thing.’
So they repaired to the cake-shop, and sat talking
for half-an-hour of trifles which made them laugh.
‘And you really didn’t know me?’
said Fanny, when her glass of wine was finished.
‘Have I changed so much?’
‘A good deal. Not for the worse, oh dear
no!’
The girl giggled.
’Well, I don’t mind saying that you
have changed a good deal for the better.’
Horace flushed at the compliment.
‘I’m much older,’ he answered with
a sigh, as though the years of a sexagenarian weighed
upon him.
’That’s just what I like in you.
You’re so much more of a man. Don’t
be offended.’
They went forth again into the sunshine. At the
door both coughed, and both pretended that it wasn’t
a cough at all, but a voluntary little hem.
Mrs. Damerel was younger than ever. She had spent
October abroad, with her friends Mrs. and Miss.
Chittle, and the greater part of November at Brighton,
with other friends. Back in town she established
herself at one of the various boarding-houses honoured
by her patronage, and prepared to enjoy the social
life of winter.
Half a year ago an unwonted depression had troubled
her serene existence. At the close of the London
season she seemed weary and spiritless, very unlike
herself; having no invitation for the next two months,
she withdrew to Whitsand, and there spent some cheerless
weeks.
