"He will if he comes at all," replied Leonard, looking at his watch; "but if the fog is very thick I don't know if he'll turn up. It is now nine o'clock."
"We usually disperse at eleven," said Madame, "but on this night I must break up at ten, as I have--" she hesitated--"I have business to do."
"I won't trouble you, Madame," said Train; "my friend and I can have supper in my room."
"That's just it," said Madame, and her voice became rather hard. "I beg, Mr. Train, that you and your friend will not sit up late."
"Why not? We both wish to smoke and talk."
"You can do that in the daytime, Mr. Train. But my house is most respectable, and I hope you will be in bed before eleven."
Leonard would have protested, as he objected to this sort of maternal government, but Mrs. Jersey rustled away, and he was left to make the best of it. Before he could collect his wits a message came that he was wanted. "By Jove! it's George," he said and hurried out of the room. Mrs. Jersey overheard the name.
"I suppose his friend is called George," she thought, and frowned. Her recollections of that name were not pleasant. However, she thought no more about the matter, but rebuked Mr. Rasper for his inattention to the 'Mabel Waltz.' "It is so sweet of Mrs. Taine to play it."
"I beg pardon--beg pardon," stuttered Rasper, putting away his envelope and looking up with a dreamy eye. "I was inventing a new bootjack. I hope to make my fortune out of it."
Madame smiled pityingly. She had heard that prophecy before, but poor Rasper's inventions had never succeeded in getting him the house in Park Lane he was always dreaming about. But she patted his shoulder and then sailed across to Miss Bull. "The music doesn't please you, Miss Bull," she said in rather an acid tone.