“A grudge?” I said. “Why?”
“Haven’t been to see you. Heard you were ill, but didn’t think you’d want me hanging round.”
“Why this modesty?” I asked.
“No—well—you know what I mean.” He shuffled his feet. “No good in a sick-room.”
“Mine wasn’t exactly a sick-room,” I said. “But I heard that you did come.”
“Yes. I came twice,” he answered, looking at me shyly. “Your old woman wouldn’t let me see you.”
“Never mind that,” I said; “let’s have an evening together soon.”
“Yes—as soon as you like.” He looked up and down the street. “There are some things I’d like to ask your advice about.”
“Certainly,” I said.
“What do you say to coming and dining at my place? Ever met Wilderling?”