The young man walked by her side for a moment in silence. She looked up at him casually as they crossed the street, and something in his face surprised her.
“Why, Cecil, what on earth is the matter with you?” she exclaimed.
He looked down at her with a new seriousness.
“I was thinking,” he said, “how oddly things turn out. So you have been down to interview Mr. Scarlett Trent for a newspaper, and he was civil to you!”
“Well, I don't see anything odd about that,” she exclaimed impatiently. “Don't be so enigmatical. If you've anything to say, say it! Don't look at me like an owl!”
“I have a good deal to say to you,” he answered gravely. “How long shall you be at the office?”
“About an hour—perhaps longer.”
“I will wait for you!”
“I'd rather you didn't. I don't want them to think that I go trailing about with an escort.”
“Then may I come down to your flat? I have something really important to say to you, Ernestine. It does not concern myself at all. It is wholly about you. It is something which you ought to know.”