“Oh, no, I haven’t any appointment, and I’ll be delighted to lunch with you.”
“Capital! Then, if you’re ready, shall we wend our way toward some little place where we can talk far from the madding crowd?”
There was nothing remarkable about Mr. Plimmer’s appearance. The clean-shaven face, the full mobile lips, the tendency toward sleekness, the suggestion that his clothes were being worn with a little too much of an air, the moist impressionable eyes, all these traits were sufficiently familiar to Nancy among the men of her profession.
“Now, have you any prejudices on the subject of restaurants?” Mr. Plimmer inquired with rich voice and elaborate manner.
“None whatever.”
“You don’t pine for music and such like gaieties?”
She shook her head.
“Then, let me see.” He paused with such dramatic abruptness in the middle of the pavement that an errand-boy who was just behind bumped into his broad back. “Why don’t you look where you’re going, my lad?” he asked with exaggerated dignity.
“Why don’t you look where you’re stopping?” the errand-boy retorted and hurried on, whistling indignantly.
“Self-possession is nine points of the law,” said Mr. Plimmer. “By the way, that’s not bad, eh, Miss O’Finn? I think I’ll note that down as rather a good line.” He took out a small pocket-book, and entered the remark. “A word in the hand is worth two in the head,” he observed with a smile; and as he did not bother to enter this line under the other Nancy supposed that he used it frequently.