He heaved himself out of his deep chair, retired to take off his smoking-jacket, and escorted her to the tram and to Collins Street.
"If you are going to be long," he said, at Mrs. Earl's door, "I'll look into the club for a few minutes."
"I'm not going to be a second, but don't wait for me," she answered, "Go to your club, old fogey, but be home in good time for dinner."
However, when she had done her errand, which was only to deliver an urgent message concerning the trimming of a Cup gown—to which Mrs. Earl was not likely to pay the least attention, knowing her business better than any lady could teach her—there was Tony on the pavement, still in devoted attendance.
"Where do you want to go now, Polly?" he asked, as if clubs were nothing to him.
"Oh, nowhere—except just to get my tea. Don't wait, dear boy."
"Where do you go for your tea?"
"To a room in Little Collins Street."
"What an extraordinary place to have one's tea in!" He signalled for a hansom. "I'll go with you."
"Oh, no; don't you bother. It's not a place for men."