"Good-bye," said George, taking the pretty hand in his; "I'm glad I was there."
George walked away in a most satisfied frame of mind. He halted half-way up the terrace and looked back at the great portico and massive windows of the Fairbrother mansion.
"Nice house that," he said; "nice girl too—devilish nice girl!"
Then he called a hansom and drove to Liverpool Street, for, urgent as the firm's business happened to be, his own at the moment was of more consequence.
That night when Gray got home his lodger's room was vacant; George Early had moved into West End lodgings.
Chapter XI—Cupid takes a Hand
Upper Thames Street is not what it used to be in the days when Fairbrothers' was young. One by one the low, grimy warehouses are disappearing, to give place to noble edifices with elaborate office room and electric light. Bit by bit the narrow roadway becomes widened, and the blocking of traffic less frequent.
The language there is not what it used to be. Ancient carmen, who have become locally notorious over victories on the question of choking the narrowest thoroughfare, and who have displayed powers of flowery repartee that no cabman dare challenge, now ride sorrowfully along in silence. Not many of them are left; the newness is killing them off and placing smart young uniformed men in their places.