“He is a great friend of my uncle’s, he is a very old client of his,” Mr. Wimple said, looking at Mrs. Baines again with his strange fixed gaze, while Ethel Dunlop thought that that horrid Mr. Wimple was actually making eyes at the old lady as he did at every one else.
“And may I ask if you also are on intimate terms with him?” Mrs. Baines said.
“No, I have only met him at my uncle’s. He is very rich,” he added, with a sigh, “and rich people are not much in my way. Literary people and out-at-elbow scribblers are my usual associates; for,” he went on, remembering that there was a possibility of doing some business with Mr. Fisher, and that he had better make an impression on the great man, “I never met any illustrious members of the profession till to-night, excepting our friend Walter of course.”
Mr. Fisher looked a little disgusted and turned to the young lady of the party.
“Have you been very musical lately, Miss Dunlop?” he inquired.
“No,” she answered, “not very. But we enjoyed the concert. It was very kind of you to send the tickets.”
The editor’s face lighted up.
“I am glad,” he said; “and did you find a pleasant chaperon?”
“Oh yes, thank you. I went with my cousin, George Dighton.”
“Is that the good-looking youth I saw you with once?”