Harry drew a long breath and glanced at door and window, as if for a way of escape.
“Come, that’s better,” cried Pradelle. “Take a more cheerful view of things. You want change, Harry. You’ve been shut up too much. Have a cigar,” he continued, drawing out his case. “No? I beg your pardon, Miss Louy. Oughtn’t to ask him to smoke here.”
Harry shook his head impatiently.
“Yes; have one, old fellow. They’re good. Take two or three; and, look here; go and have a walk up and down for an hour. It’s getting dusk now.”
Louise gave her brother an excited look, which did not escape Pradelle. “Let’s all go,” he said. “We might go along the back streets as far as the park. Do you both good.”
“No, no,” said Harry sharply. “I shall not go out.”
“Go together, then,” said Pradelle, half mockingly. “I don’t want to intrude; but for goodness’ sake, man, try and have a little change; it would make life move different, and you’d be more ready to take a friend’s advice.”
“What advice?”
“To settle down here. London’s the best place in the world for hiding yourself.”
“Don’t talk to me any more, old fellow,” said Harry. “I’m out of temper. I can’t help it.”