"Go then;—go and get your sleep. What a sleepy-headed generation it is." Johnny longed to ask her whether the last generation was less sleepy-headed, and whether the gentleman with two thousand a year had sat up talking all night before he pressed his foot for the last time on his native soil; but he did not dare. As he said to himself afterwards, "It would not do to bring the Bayswater romance too suddenly to its termination!" "But before you go," she continued, "I must say the word to you about that picture. Did you speak to Mr. Dalrymple?"
"I did not. I have been so busy with different things that I have not seen him."
"And now you are going?"
"Well,—to tell the truth, I think I shall see him to-night, in spite of my being so sleepy-headed. I wrote him a line that I would look in and smoke a cigar with him if he chanced to be at home!"
"And that is why you want to go. A gentleman cannot live without his cigar now."
"It is especially at your bidding that I am going to see him."
"Go, then,—and make your friend understand that if he continues this picture of his, he will bring himself to great trouble, and will probably ruin the woman for whom he professes, I presume, to feel something like friendship. You may tell him that Mrs. Van Siever has already heard of it."
"Who told her?" demanded Johnny.
"Never mind. You need not look at me like that. It was not I. Do you suppose that secrets can be kept when so many people know them? Every servant in Maria's house knows all about it."
"As for that, I don't suppose Mrs. Broughton makes any great secret of it."