During the next week Betty’s thoughts were continually winging across the Square to her new friend, Mrs Vanburgh, though her own time was so fully occupied, that, with the exception of a sudden encounter in the street, they did not see anything of each other until the great Saturday arrived.
Meantime it rankled in Jill’s mind that she had been unfairly treated, and, in consequence, she was constantly endeavouring to hit on some scheme which would at once vindicate her own importance and put Betty’s adventure in the shade. General Digby, as a new and striking personality in her small circle of acquaintances, naturally suggested himself as a fitting object for the enterprise, and she lost no time in consulting her ally.
“I say, Jack, when you saw the ‘Victim’ home the other night, did you notice the address?”
“What do you take me for, silly? I have eyes, haven’t I? Of course I noticed it.”
“You may have eyes, but you certainly haven’t a memory. Do you happen to remember where it was?”
“No, I don’t, but I wrote it down in my pocket-book, so I could soon find out if I wanted to. Why?”
“Because I think we ought to call and ask how he is.”
“Father says he’s all right except for his gout.”
“I know—but it would be polite to call. Mother always does, even when she knows they are better. And as we were the—er—what do you call it?—cause of the accident—”
“Innocent?”