‘Gracious heavens! Why, that’s magnificent.’
But Whelpdale did not look quite so much satisfaction as his words expressed.
‘Is it to be soon?’ he inquired.
‘At the end of the season. Make no difference to Dora and me, of course.’
‘Oh? Really? No difference at all? You will let me come and see you—both—just in the old way, Milvain?’
‘Why the deuce shouldn’t you?’
‘To be sure, to be sure. By Jove! I really don’t know how I should get on if I couldn’t look in of an evening now and then. I have got so much into the habit of it. And—I’m a lonely beggar, you know. I don’t go into society, and really—’
He broke off, and Jasper began to speak of other things.
When Milvain re-entered the house, Dora had gone to her own sitting-room. It was not quite ten o’clock. Taking one set of the proofs of his ‘Reardon’ article, he put it into a large envelope; then he wrote a short letter, which began ‘Dear Mrs Reardon,’ and ended ‘Very sincerely yours,’ the communication itself being as follows:
‘I venture to send you the proofs of a paper which is to appear in next month’s Wayside, in the hope that it may seem to you not badly done, and that the reading of it may give you pleasure. If anything occurs to you which you would like me to add, or if you desire any omission, will you do me the kindness to let me know of it as soon as possible, and your suggestion shall at once be adopted. I am informed that the new edition of “On Neutral Ground” and “Hubert Reed” will be ready next month. Need I say how glad I am that my friend’s work is not to be forgotten?’