"Good
evening."
He walked briskly down the avenue, and Hedges stood looking after him,
slightly puzzled in his mind.
"I don't believe it's a creditor; that I don't. He looks like a parson to
me. But it's some trouble though, if it's not debt. 'Danger' was the
word: 'there might be danger.' Danger in writing, he meant. Any way, I'm
glad he didn't go in to that ferreting old dowager. And whatever it may
be, his lordship's able to pay it now."
CHAPTER XIX.
A CHANCE MEETING.
Some few weeks went by. On a fine June morning Lord and Lady Hartledon
were breakfasting at their hotel in the Rue Rivoli. She was listlessly
playing with her cup; he was glancing over _Galignani's_.
"Maude," he suddenly exclaimed, "the fountains are to play on Sunday at
Versailles. Will you go to see them?"
"I am tired of sight-seeing, and tired of Paris too," was Lady
Hartledon's answer, spoken with apathy.
"Are you?" he returned, with animation, as though not sorry to hear the
avowal. "Then we won't stay in Paris any longer. When shall we leave?"
"Are the letters not late this morning?" she asked, allowing the question
to pass.
Lord Hartledon glanced at the clock. "Very late: and we are late also.
Are you expecting any in particular?"
"I don't know. This chocolate is cold."
"That is easily remedied," said he, rising to ring the bell. "They can
bring in some fresh.
Pages:
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286