“Teresina!” he ejaculated, in surprise. “What on earth does this mean? How long have you been in England?”
“Nearly a month,” she answered, looking away as if she desired to avoid his eyes.
“And why did you not let me know that you were coming?” he asked, reproachfully. “You must surely remember that you promised to do so?”
“I did not like to trouble you,” she replied, still in the same curiously hard voice. “You were not in London, and I thought you would be too busy to have time to spare for me.”
“You know that is not true,” he answered. “I should be a mean brute if I did not find time to look after my friends. Where are you living? In the old house?”
She paused for a moment before she replied. He noticed her embarrassment, but did not put the right construction upon it.
“Near the Tottenham Court Road,” she said at last. “I don’t think you would know the street if I told you.”
“And your mother, how is she?”
He saw the look of pain which spread over her face, and noticed that her eyes filled with tears.
“My mother is dead!” she answered, very quietly. “She died in Naples two months ago.”