"When I want a turn of that description done for me, I will be sure to let you know," Foote continued; "but if I have any sort of luck, it will be many years before I come to you with such a request. When I remember that, but for my folly in showing you that picture in Waterloo Place, we should by this time be on the other side of the Eddystone, en route for the Mediterranean and sunshine, I feel as if I could sit down and weep. However, it is kismet, I suppose?"
Browne offered no reply.
"Are you coming in?" said Foote as they reached the doorstep of the Périgord Club.
"No, thank you, old man," said Browne. "I think, if you will excuse me, I will get home."
"Good-night, then," said Foote; "I shall probably see you in the morning."
Having bidden him good-night, Browne proceeded on his way.
Next morning, as soon as breakfast was over, he betook himself to Kensington Gardens, where he wandered about for upwards of an hour, but saw no sign of the girl he hoped to meet. Leaving the Gardens, he made his way to the High Street, with an equally futile result. Regardless of the time he was wasting, and of everything else, he passed on in the direction of Addison Road. As disappointment still pursued him, he made up his mind to attempt a forlorn hope. Turning into the Melbury Road, he made for German Park Road, and reaching the studio, rang the bell. When the door was opened he found himself confronted with an elderly person, wearing a sack for an apron, and holding a bar of yellow soap in her hand.
"I have called to see Miss Petrovitch," he said.
"She is not at home, sir," the woman replied. "She has not been here this morning. Can I give her any message?"
"I am afraid not," Browne replied. "I wanted to see her personally; but you might tell her that Mr. Browne called."