“Well, then, out with it.”
“That I cannot do without being guilty of a breach of confidence, Mr Rowle,” I replied. “If you will come up to Miss Carr’s to-morrow evening at half-past six, you may be sure of a warm welcome, and I shall be there to meet you.”
“Phee-ew!” he whistled, “how fine we have got to be, Grace. Do we dine late every day, sir?”
“No; nonsense,” I said, laughing. “Miss Carr is very kind to me, though: and she wished me to be there to meet you.”
“Well, but, Grace, you know,” said the old man, “I’m such a queer, rough sort of a fellow. I’m not used to that sort of thing. I’ve read about it often enough; but I suppose—oh, you know, I couldn’t come?”
“I shall tell Miss Carr you will,” I said, rising; and after a few more words, the old man promised, and I went away.