"I will do everything you wish," he answered, his tones literally trembling with tenderness.
"I want you to go to the bank in Lombard Street, and got me a cheque cashed. Mr. Grubb gave it me this morning, and I am in a hurry for the money, for I expect people here every minute with some accounts. It is not crossed. Take a cab, and go at once."
"I will. I can leave the cheque-book in Leadenhall Street first."
"No, you must not wait to find the cheque-book. I will look for it whilst you are gone. You will not be many minutes, I am sure, and I tell you I am all impatience."
Charley Cleveland hesitated. "I scarcely know what to say," he replied, dubiously, to this. "Mr. Grubb is waiting for the cheque-book. This is Saturday, you know."
"What if it is?"
"We are always so busy on Saturdays."
"Very well, Charles," she returned in hurt, resentful tones. "If you like Mr. Grubb better than you do me, you will oblige him first. You would be there and back in no time."
"Dearest Lady Adela! Like Mr. Grubb better than—— Well, I will do it, though I dare say I shall get into a row. Have the cheque-book ready, that I may not lose a moment when I get back." And Adela nodded assent.
"A confounded row, too," he muttered to himself, as he tore down the stairs, and into the cab; "but I will go through a thundercloud full of rows for her." Charley gave a concise word to the driver, and away dashed the cab towards Lombard Street, at a pace which terrified the road generally, and greatly astonished the apple-stalls.