“Oh, dear!” said I.
“Suppose I let you know how much it was,” he went on, with a gravity which forced conviction upon me.
“Perhaps that would be the best,” I agreed. “But I hope you will make out your accounts soon.”
“Oh, very soon. And where shall I send my bill to?”
Feeling as if there were something not quite as it should be in the whole proceeding, I looked very earnestly at him, but could find nothing but the most perfect gravity in his expression. I repeated my address and name slowly and distinctly, as befitted so business-like a transaction, and he wrote them down in a little book.
“And you will not forget,” said I, “to give me your address when you let me know what I owe you.”
“Certainly—when I let you know what you owe me,” he replied, putting the little book into his pocket again.
“I wonder if any one will come to meet me,” I speculated, my mind more at ease in consequence of the business-like demeanor of my companion.
“Possibly,” said he, with an ambiguous half smile, which I did not understand.
“Miss Hallam—the lady I came with—is almost blind. Her maid had to look after her, and I suppose that is why they did not wait for me,” said I.