"You would receive well in a garret--a stable," he said. "But what is the meaning of this? Explain."
"Lady Henry is ill and is gone to bed. That made her very cross--poor Lady Henry! She thinks I, too, am in bed. But you see--you forced your way in--didn't you?--to inquire with greater minuteness after Lady Henry's health."
She bent towards him, her eyes dancing.
"Of course I did. Will there presently be a swarm on my heels, all possessed with a similar eagerness, or--?"
He drew his chair, smiling, a little closer to her. She, on the contrary, withdrew hers.
"There will, no doubt, be six or seven," she said, demurely, "who will want personal news. But now, before they come"--her tone changed--"is there anything to tell me?"
"Plenty," he said, drawing a letter out of his pocket. "Your writ, my dear lady, runs as easily in the City as elsewhere." And he held up an envelope.
She flushed.
"You have got your allotment? But I knew you would. Lady Froswick promised."
"And a large allotment, too," he said, joyously. "I am the envy of all my friends. Some of them have got a few shares, and have already sold them--grumbling. I keep mine three days more on the best advice--the price may go higher yet. But, anyway, there"--he shook the envelope--"there it is--deliverance from debt--peace of mind for the first time since I was a lad at school--the power of going, properly fitted out and equipped, to Africa--if I go--and not like a beggar--all in that bit of paper, and all the work of--some one you and I know. Fairy godmother! tell me, please, how to say a proper thank you."