"It serves us right," he said, a little severely, and hastening his companion on. "I was looking at her only as a curiosity."
Burton glanced behind and move on reluctantly.
"I call her jolly good-looking," he declared.
Mr. Waddington pretended not to hear. They turned into Jermyn Street.
"There are some vases here, at this small shop round the corner, which I want you particularly to notice, Burton," he continued. "They are perfect models of old Etruscan ware. Did you ever see a more beautiful curve? Isn't it a dream? One could look at a curve like that and it has something the same effect upon one as a line of poetry or a single exquisite thought."
Burton glanced into the window and looked back again over his shoulder.
The lady, however, had disappeared.
"Hm!" he remarked. "Very nice vase. Let's get on to lunch. I'm hungry."
Mr. Waddington stopped short upon the pavement and gripped his companion's arm.
"Burton," he said, a trifle hesitatingly, "you don't think—you don't imagine—"
"Not a bit of it!" Burton interrupted, savagely. "One must be a little human now and then. By Jove, old man, there are some ties, if you like! I always did think a yellow one would suit me."