"I must go," said Nelly, rising as she spoke. "It isn't getting any drier."
He put his coat on and followed her to the door. She noticed he left threepence for the waitress. How extravagant, after just a cup of tea! He kept beside her across the street, holding his umbrella over her head.
"I should like to read your book when it comes out," she said, as her omnibus hove in sight. "Why do you laugh?"
He was laughing because he knew the book. "How are you to ask for it without knowing the talented author's name?"
She hesitated. "Well," she said, almost reluctantly, "what is his name?"
He noticed the effort and his manner stiffened. "It's one I needn't be ashamed to tell you, and you needn't be ashamed to hear. My name is Paul Ingram. Here's your 'bus. Good-bye. I don't ask you yours."
Fenella turned on the step and laughed at him over her muff.
"Goosey! You've got it in your waistcoat pocket."
XI
AN INTERLUDE