He filled it in instantly, and returned the paper to her.
She looked at Bertie.
“Ask him if he’ll tell me his,” she said, addressing Bertie again instead of Faradeane, as if she could not trust herself to speak to him directly.
“Faradeane,” said Bertie; “go and do as my friend tells you.”
The woman nodded, and, with a long, steady look at Faradeane, turned down the path and out of the gate.
Bertie turned to Faradeane.
“That was kind of you, old fellow,” he said. “Just like you, too—so thoughtful and—and considerate.”
Faradeane seemed to wake up, as if from a reverie.
“My dear Cherub,” he said, banteringly, “why will you try and throw a glamour over a simple bit of charity which really costs me nothing?”
“Yes,” said Bertie, “that’s true; it costs you nothing to speak and look so that the woman was too moved to speak and look at you. And you tell me that you have committed a wrong which ought to shut you out of society,” he burst out.