Jenkins, who had lived with us for years, and who had as a matter of course imbibed some of the aristocratic notions of our neighbourhood, almost turned up his nose when we told him to stop at the house of a well-known agent in Bloomsbury. He could not, like the Duchess of Wilmot, confess that he did not know where Bloomsbury was, but he evidently considered that something strange and by no means comme il faut had occurred.
Presently we reached our destination, it was only half-past ten.
"Won't you get out, mother?" I asked as I sprang to the pavement.
"Is it necessary, dear child?" replied mother.
"I think it is," I answered; "you ought to appear in this matter, I am too young to receive the respect which I really merit, but with you to help me—oh, you will do exactly what I tell you, won't you?"
"My dear girl!"
"Yes, Mummy, you will, you will."
I took her hand, and gave it a firm grip, and we went into the house-agent's together.
CHAPTER IV
THE VERDICT
The first thing I noticed when I entered the large room where Messrs Macalister & Co. carried on their business, was a young man, tall and very well set up, who stood with his back to us. He was talking earnestly to one of Macalister's clerks, and there was something about his figure which caused me to look at him attentively. His hair was of a light shade of brown, and was closely cropped to his well-shaped head, and his shoulders were very broad and square. He was dressed well, and had altogether that man-of-the-world, well bred sort of look, which is impossible to acquire by any amount of outward veneer. The man who stood with his back to us, and did not even glance round as we came into the agent's office, was beyond doubt a gentleman. I felt curiously anxious to see his face, for I was certain it must be a pleasant one, but in this particular fate did not favour me. I heard him say to the clerk in a hurried tone—