An hour passed. His patience was nearly at an end. He waited another ten minutes, then left the room, called to the landlady that he was going, and let himself out.
Scarcely had he walked half a dozen yards, when he stood face to face with Franks.
"Ah! Here you are! I waited as long as I could—"
"I'll walk with you," said the artist, turning on his heels.
He had shaken hands but limply. His look avoided Warburton's. His speech was flat, wearied.
"What's wrong, Franks?"
"As you've been in the studio, I daresay you know."
"I saw something that surprised me."
"Did it surprise you?" asked Norbert, in a half-sullen undertone.
"What do you mean by that?" said Will with subdued resentment.