But most of all, I think, they enjoyed their days on the river, when Jack, attired in his white flannels, would pull the two ladies up to Walton or Chertsey, and give them tea in one of the quiet, river-side inns.
Ah! those evenings, those moonlight nights, when the boat drifted down stream, and the two young people sat, hand in hand, whispering those endless exchanges of confidence which go to make up lovers’ conversations.
It was wonderful that Mrs. Davenant did not catch cold, but Jack took great care of her, and wrapped her up in his thick ulster; and she never seemed to grow tired of witnessing their happiness.
Sometimes Jack would ask Stephen to join them, but Stephen would always find an excuse. Now it was because he had an engagement with the lawyers; at another time he had promised to speak at some philanthropic meeting, or had promised to dine at the club. He would, however, occasionally dine at the Square, or drop in and take a cup of tea; and wore always the same friendly smile and genial manner.
Jack had become quite convinced that he had done Stephen a great deal of injustice, and now thought that Stephen was everything that was kind and thoughtful.
It was only at chance times, when Jack happened to catch the pale face off its guard, that the old doubts rose to perplex and trouble him; but then he always set them to rest by asking himself what Stephen could possibly have to gain by acting as he did.
Of course, all these outings by land and water cost a great deal of money, but Jack had found Moss, the money-lender, most suddenly and strangely complaisant.
Instead of dunning him for what was owing, Moss actually pressed him to borrow more, and Jack, always too careless in money matters, was quite ready to oblige him.
“I can pay him out of my salary, when I get the appointment,” he said to Leonard, in response to the latter’s remonstrances and warnings.
“Yes, when you get it,” said Leonard.