The sneer on his face as he said this was not pretty to watch.
“And now that you are at home once more, I presume you will resume your old habit of searching the slums for foreign eating houses?” said Godfrey, with a laugh. “Do you remember how and where we met Teresina?”
“Perfectly,” Victor replied shortly, and then changed the conversation by inquiring how long Godfrey intended remaining in town.
“I go back to-morrow morning,” was the other’s reply. “And now that I come to think of it, why shouldn’t you come down with me? It would be just the thing for you. We shall be very pleased to see you if you care to come.”
“Impossible,” the other answered. “I have such a lot to do. I could not possibly manage it before Saturday.”
“Let it be Saturday then,” said Godfrey, with an imperturbable good humour that contrasted very strongly with the other’s peevishness. “There’s a first-rate train which gets you down in time for afternoon tea. I’ll meet you at the station.”
When Godfrey had finished his lunch he paid a visit to his saddler and his bootmaker, and then to fill in the time, inspected the stables of a well-known horse-dealer. He would have liked to go round to Eaton Square where Molly and her mother were staying with an old maiden aunt, but he thought better of it, and contented himself by strolling down Bond Street on the off-chance that he might meet them. He was not successful, however, so he returned to his hotel to dress and dine.
At ten minutes to eight he was to be seen standing in the vestibule of the Lyceum, waiting for the ladies to put in an appearance. When their carriage drove up he hastened forward to greet them, and conducted them forthwith to the box he had engaged. Nothing that could tend to their comfort had been omitted by this extravagant young man, and he found his reward in the tender little squeeze Molly gave his hand when he removed her cloak. During the evening he did not concern himself very much with the play; he watched his future wife’s pretty face and the expressions that played upon it. As soon as they were married he was determined to paint a life-size portrait of her, which he prophesied to himself would be the best piece of work he had ever accomplished. But even the happiest evenings must come to an end, and this particular one was no exception to the rule. When the curtain fell on the last act, he re-cloaked his two charges, and escorted them downstairs once more. Then, bidding them wait in the vestibule, he himself went out in search of their carriage. When he had placed them in it, he bade them good-night, and came very near being knocked over by a hansom as he watched them disappear in the traffic.
The night was bitterly cold, and snow was falling. Reflecting that it would be wiser not to stand still, he turned up the collar of his coat, and wondered what he should do next. Should he go back to his hotel and to bed, or should he stroll on to his club and see who was there? He eventually decided in favour of the hotel, and accordingly set off along the Strand in the hope that he might presently be able to pick up a cab.
He had reached Exeter Hall, when, with a cry of astonishment, he found himself standing face to face with the one person of all others he had least expected to see in England. It was Teresina!