“You must forgive me,” I said at length; “this sudden meeting has driven me all abroad; and then I got stuck down there by mistake, and the sight has half-turned my brain, I think.”
“By mistake, was it?” he said, with a mocking titter. “Oh, Renny, don’t I know you?—though your looks are changed, too, for the matter of that; more than mine are, I expect.”
I could well believe. Soul and manhood must have wrought new expression in me; but, for Jason, he was the Jason of old—fuller, more set and powerful; yet the same beautiful personality with the uninterpretable eyes.
“Well,” he said, “aren’t you surprised to see me?”
“Surprise isn’t the word.”
“Nor pleasure either, I expect.”
“No. I should be a liar to say it was.”
“Well, you used to be that, you know; though I dare say you’ve found out the better policy now.”
“At any rate, as you’re here, you’ll come home with me, won’t you?”
“Of course. That’s what I intend. I’ve been in London three or four days, and went over to your old place yesterday, but found you had left. I got the new address off a queer old chap there. Why didn’t you tell us you had changed?”