The Freak gave a wry smile.
"I did," he said. "It was rather a heated interview, I'm afraid. Words passed. But we can't stand here dodging taxis. Come into the garden, Maud!"
"Don't we require a key?" enquired the re-christened Connie, surveying the iron railings which enclosed the Bloomsbury Eden.
"I have one," said Dicky. "It belongs to the Welwyns. Tilly and I used to use it a good deal," he explained, in a subdued voice.
He led the way into the dingy but romantic pleasance which had sheltered himself and his beloved, and the trio sat down upon a damp seat. Mrs. Carmyle, looking rather like one of the sparrows which hopped inquisitively about her daintily shod feet, established herself between her two large companions. Her husband, who was a creature of homely instincts, hung his silk hat upon an adjacent bough with a sigh of content, and began to fill a large briar pipe. Dicky, a prey to melancholy, kicked the grass with his heels.
"Where is Tilly this morning?" asked Connie.
"Gone out--to look for a job!" replied Dicky through his clenched teeth. "Just as if a snug home and the life of a lady were things she had never dreamed of!" His eyes blazed. "Great Heavens, Connie--the pluck of the child! What a brute it makes me feel!"
Connie patted his hand maternally, but said nothing. There was nothing to say. Presently Dicky continued, in a more even voice:--
"So my mother is coming up this morning--to strike while the iron is hot--eh?"
"'To make a direct appeal to Miss Welwyn's better nature,' was what she said," replied Mrs. Carmyle cautiously.