"And you told her you didn't know."
"Of course."
She said it so expectantly, so hopefully that he would divulge the terrible secret which meant so much to the continuation of their acquaintance.
"And what did she say to that?"
"She said, of course, that it was impossible for me to know you until you had come properly as a visitor to the house, and that she couldn't ask you until she knew where you lived. And I suppose that's quite right."
"I suppose it is," said John. "At any rate you agree with her?"
"I suppose so."
It meant she didn't. One never does the thing one supposes to be right; there's no satisfaction in it.
"Well--the Martyrs' Club will always find me."
This was John's club; that club, to become a member of which, he had been despoiled of the amount of a whole year's rent. He was still staggering financially under the blow.