“Old!” repeated the polite professor, holding up his hands. “Madam hardly looks twenty-five.”
“But as my son is sixteen, I must be rather more than that,” said Mrs. Harcourt, well pleased at the compliment, nevertheless.
It was in April that Ben had a surprise. He was coming out of the Gallery of the Louvre when he met face to face John Wilkins, the dramatic author, in whose play he had first won success as an actor.
CHAPTER XXXI.
UNWELCOME NEWS.
“Ben Bruce!” exclaimed Wilkins in surprise and delight.
“I am glad to meet you, Mr. Wilkins,” said Ben, shaking his hand cordially.
“I had lost sight of you. I did not know you were abroad.”
“I have been several months in Paris,” said Ben.
“But how in the world were you able to come? You didn’t make a fortune by selling papers, I take it.”