"My dear boy, we must stay here for the present. It is quiet and better than living in a street. Will you have any tea, Raymond?" she asked.
"No, thanks; I have dined with Barington at the Queen's. He paid the score."
Raymond had a soft, caressing way with his mother, and she now sat with her hand in his, looking at him with loving interest.
"I can't bear you to live in a place like this," he began again, "you dear mother. I am sure there are heaps of good lodgings in the better part of Roxburgh, only our kind relatives did not wish to have us too near them."
"Nonsense, Raymond," Salome broke in.
"Well, never mind about that, dear. Uncle Loftus has, he thinks, heard of something for you in Harstone. You are to go and see Mr. Warde with him to-morrow at ten o'clock punctually."
"Uncle Loftus won't like to be kept waiting, so you must be up in good time to be at Edinburgh Crescent by ten o'clock, Digby says."
"Shut up, Reginald," said his brother; "I do not want your interference."
"What is to be done about old Birch, mother?" he asked turning again to Mrs. Wilton; "he ought to have a term's notice. I thought I could go back till Christmas."
"Oh no, Raymond; I am afraid that is impossible. My dear boy, it is such pain to me—to—to—"