Laura Stanbridge conducted her visitor upstairs, when the two entered a large and elegantly furnished apartment on the first floor.
“Now then,” she said, “make yourself at home, Charlie. We are no strangers to each other, and I’ve got a lot to say to you.”
Peace sat down, while his companion went into an adjoining room to take off her bonnet and mantle.
“She’s a mysterious party,” he murmured. What can she be up to now, I wonder? Seems to be in pretty good feather anyhow.”
The girl returned, and sat herself down opposite to her male companion.
“Well, in the first place you are surprised to see me, and in the next you are not able to reckon me up,” said she, laughing. “That’s it—isn’t it?”
“Ah, as to that, Laura, I think most of us reckoned you up when you were at Sheffield; but what you are doing now, of course, I’m unable to say.”
“I’m creeping—creeping along.”
“We have not met for ever so long a time,” said the girl, “and now you have come I’m not going to part with you without first of all having a talk about old times.”
“Umph!” muttered Peace; “you seem to be flourishing, my lady—everything very comfortable, and all that sort of thing, eh. I wonder how it’s done?”