“Not from that day to this,” answered Jack.
“And yet he still remembers and loves her,” murmured Una. “Yes, I like your friend, Jack, and I do hope he will meet with this young lady and be happy. I should like all the world to be as happy as I am!”
“Ah, but don’t you see all the world aren’t angels like you, you know,” retorted Master Jack, kissing her.
Though, in accordance with Stephen’s advice, the engagement had not been made public, the outside world was beginning to get an inkling of what was going on in Walmington Square.
Jack’s friends at the club chaffed him on the unfrequency of his visits.
“There’s some mischief the Savage is planning,” said Dalrymple. “You scarcely ever see him here now; he doesn’t play, and shuns the bottle as if it were poison, and he’s altogether changed. I shouldn’t be surprised if he were to take to public meetings like that distant cousin of his, Stephen Davenant.”
“It is my opinion,” said Sir Arkroyd Hetley, “that he spends all his time at Walmington Square, for my man sees him going and coming at all hours. The Savage is in love.”
And gradually those rumors spreading, like the ripple of a stone in a pool, reached Park Lane, and got to Lady Bell’s ears.
She had gone out of town for a week or two, and had, of course, seen nothing of Jack or Una, but on her return she drove to the Square.
Una and Mrs. Davenant were sitting by the tea table, and wondering whether Jack would come in.