“Yes, it’s so good of you to suggest that; but it wouldn’t do at all. It’s not only the little green chair, it’s the civilization generally, and the grey sky, and sirloins of beef one wants.”
“I thought you hated beef,” said Maud. “I’m sure I’ve heard you say that it was barbarous food.”
“Oh yes, I know it is; but I like to know that it’s there. I don’t want to eat it, but there always ought to be some on the sideboard. Well, won’t you come, Maud?”
“No, I’m not coming yet.”
Tom grew exasperated.
“Can’t you find your way home alone?” he asked.
Arthur Wrexham looked at him for a moment with mild and slightly piteous surprise.
“Oh yes, I shall be all right,” he said, “if I can only get a hansom! I suppose there’s a man who will call a hansom for me if I give him a shilling. Good night, Maud.”
He went very quietly away, bestowing a nod and a tired smile on Tom.
“It’s so funny that he should be my brother,” said Maud, when he was out of hearing; “and all he wants to do is to read little French books, and sit in the Park, and have tea on the terrace of the House of Commons. I wonder he didn’t mention that.”