“I knew you would,” said Godfrey, placing his hand affectionately on the other’s shoulder. “We must talk it over some time and see what can be done. It will never do to let her go on as she is now.”
“You have no idea, I suppose, of the origin of the trouble?”
“Not the least. She would tell me nothing. She tried to make me believe that she had plenty of work, and that she did not stand in need of any assistance. I knew better, however.”
“And where is she living?”
“In Burford Street, off the Tottenham Court Road. It is a miserable place, mainly occupied by foreigners. The house is on the right-hand side.”
“Very well,” said Victor. “When I go back to town I will look her up. It will be hard if we can’t arrange something.”
Then they descended the stairs together and entered the drawing-room.
“My dear Godfrey, are you aware that you will have one wife in a hundred?” said Kitty, pointing to a table on which some twenty packages of all sizes, shapes, and descriptions were arranged.
“How so?” said Godfrey. “What new virtue have you discovered in her?”