It was five minutes to four when Frank arrived, and the lady had not yet appeared. He stood near the door and waited. Presently a hansom rattled into the narrow street, and there she sat framed in its concavity. A pretty woman never looks prettier than in a hansom, with the shadows behind to give their Rembrandt effect to the face in front. She raised a yellow kid hand, and flashed a smile at him.
‘Just the same as ever,’ said she, as he handed her down.
‘So are you.’
‘So glad you think so. I am afraid I can’t quite agree with you. Thirty-four yesterday. It’s simply awful. Thank you, I have some change. All right, cabby. Well, have you got a room?’
‘No.’
‘But you’ll come?’
‘Oh yes, I should like to have a chat.’
The clean-shaven, round-faced manager, a man of suave voice and diplomatic manner, was standing in the passage. His strange life was spent in standing in the passage. He remembered the pair at once, and smiled paternally.
‘Not seen you for some time, sir!’
‘No, I have been engaged.’