“Not of Mr. Davenant, who has been so kind?” she whispered, with a surprised look.
Jack bit his lip.
“No, no; certainly not. Oh, yes, he has been kind.”
Then with a long, loving look into her sweet face he crossed the room.
“Good-night, Stephen.”
“You are really going? Well, then, I’ll go with you,” said Stephen. “Mother will not mind my running away tonight, I am rather tired.”
And he stooped and kissed her, and went to the door.
It almost seemed as if he had forgotten Una; but he turned suddenly and held out his hand, a bland, benevolent smile on his pale face.
“Good-night, good-night,” he murmured, softly, and followed after Jack, who, the moment he reached the pavement, looked out for a hansom; but Stephen linked his arm in Jack’s, and said:
“Are you in a hurry, my dear Jack? If not, I’ll walk a little way with you; or will you come toward my rooms?”