“Well, there’s none of them as rich as you are, I reckon, Dan.”
And the boy turned on him violently.
“See here, Josh, if you speak to me again of my money, when there’s a woman in the question—”
He did not finish his threat, but snatched up his coat and hat and gloves and went out of the door, slamming it after him.
Mr. Ruggles’ profound and happy snore was cut short by the page boy, who fetched in a note, with the Savoy stamping on the back. Ruggles opened it not without emotion.
“Dear boy,” it ran, “I haven’t yet thanked you for the primroses; they were perfectly sweet. There is not one of them in any of my rooms, and I’ll tell you why to-night. I am crazy to accept for supper”—here she had evidently struck out her intended refusal, and closed with, “I’m coming, but don’t come after me at the Gaiety, please. I’ll meet you at the Carlton after the theater. Who’s the other boy? L. L.”
The “other boy” read the note with much difficulty, for it was badly written. “He’ll have to stop sending her flowers and going every night to the theater unless he wants a row with the duchess,” he said dryly. And with a certain interest in his rôle, Ruggles rang for the head waiter, and with the man’s help ordered his first midnight supper for an actress.
CHAPTER XI—RUGGLES GIVES A DINNER
The bright tide of worldly London flows after and around midnight into the various restaurants and supper rooms, and as well through the corridors and halls of the Carlton. At one of the small tables bearing a great expensive bunch of orchids and soft ferns, Josh Ruggles, in a new evening dress, sat waiting for his party. Dan had dined with Lord Galorey, and the two men had gone out together afterward, and Ruggles had not seen the boy to give him Letty Lane’s note.
“Got it with you?” Blair asked when he came in, and Ruggles responded that he didn’t carry love letters around in his dress clothes.