Miss Montgomery pleaded.
“I’ll think it over,” was all that Mr. Jowett could be made to promise. “Look me up again.”
“When?” asked Miss Montgomery.
“What’s to-day?—Thursday. Say Monday.” Mr. Jowett rang the bell. “Take my advice,” said the old gentleman, laying a fatherly hand on Johnny’s shoulder, “leave business to us men. You are a handsome girl. You can do better for yourself than this.”
A clerk entered, Johnny rose.
“On Monday next, then,” Johnny reminded him.
“At four o’clock,” agreed Mr. Jowett. “Good afternoon.”
Johnny went out feeling disappointed, and yet, as he told himself, he hadn’t done so badly. Anyhow, there was nothing for it but to wait till Monday. Now he would go home, change his clothes, and get some dinner. He hailed a hansom.
“Number twenty-eight—no. Stop at the Queen’s Street corner of Lincoln’s Inn Fields,” Johnny directed the man.
“Quite right, miss,” commented the cabman pleasantly. “Corner’s best—saves all talk.”