‘Who is she?’
‘Didn’t you know Pollard of Trinity?—the only son of his mother, and she a widow.’
‘Next day, then.’
‘Can’t. I dine with some people at Bedford Park.’
Munden lifted his eyebrows.
‘At this rate, you may live pretty well on a dress suit. Any more engagements?’
‘None that I know of. But I shall accept all that offer. I’m hungry for the society of decent English people. I used to neglect my acquaintances; I know better now. Go and live for a month in a cheap New York boarding-house, and you’ll come out with a wholesome taste for English refinement.’
To enable his friend to read, Tarrant had already lit a lamp. Munden, glancing about the room, said carelessly:
‘Do you still possess the furniture of the old place?’
‘No,’ was the answer, given with annoyance. ‘Vawdrey had it sold for me.’