"Told you he would?"
"Yes."
"When did you see Mr Bevan?"
"Why, he called—didn't I tell you?—oh no, I forgot—he called, and he was awfully nice. Quite the nicest man I've met for a long time. He stayed to luncheon and tea and supper."
"Was your father at home?"
"No."
"I would rather this had not happened," said Mr Hancock in a slightly pained voice. "Mr Bevan is a gentleman for whom I have great respect, but considering the absence of your father, the absence of a host—er—er—conventionalities, um——"
"Oh, he didn't seem to mind," said Fanny; "he knew father was away, and took us just as we were. He's awfully rich, I suppose, but he was just as pleasant as if he were poor—came marketing and carried the basket; and, I declare to goodness, if I had known we had such a jolly cousin before, I'd have gone and hunted him up myself in the—'Albany,' isn't it?"
"Mr Bevan lives in the 'Albany,'" said the lawyer. "It is a bachelors' residence, and scarcely a place—scarcely a place for a—er—lady to call—no, scarcely a place for a lady to call. However, what's done is done, and we must make the best of it."