"No one would think so who knows him. I'm convinced there's some other explanation."
"Perhaps the truth is yet more awful," said Bertha solemnly. "He may have got a place in a shop."
"Hush! hush!" exclaimed the other, with a pained look. "Don't say such things! A poor clerk is suggestive—it's possible to see him in a romantic light—but a shopman! If you knew him,' you would laugh at the idea. Mystery suits him very well indeed; to tell the truth, he's much more interesting now than when one knew him as a partner in a manufactory of some kind. You see he's unhappy—there are lines in his face—"
"Perhaps," suggested Bertha, "he has married a rich widow and daren't confess it."
CHAPTER 30
It was on Saturday night that Godfrey Sherwood came at length to Warburton's lodgings. Reaching home between twelve and one o'clock Will saw a man who paced the pavement near Mrs. Wick's door; the man, at sight of him, hastened forward; there were exclamations of surprise and of pleasure.
"I came first of all at nine o'clock," said Sherwood. "The landlady said you wouldn't be back before midnight, so I came again. Been to the theatre, I suppose?"
"Yes," answered Will, "taking part in a play called 'The Grocer's Saturday Night.'
"I'd forgotten. Poor old fellow! You won't have much more of that thank Heaven!—Are you too tired to talk to-night?"