"Had she?" Margaret exclaimed, joyfully. "I'm so glad. I love her, though I only saw her for a moment."
"I'll tell her so. Every one does. My mother was devoted to her; that's one reason why I am. She's great fun, too, though, of course, she's getting on a bit," he added, with the splendid insolence of youth. "There's something more at the back of this visit," and he looked at Mr. Vincent. "I have been wondering if you are really going to-day?"
"By the 2.50 from Waterloo. We can't stay any longer."
"Well—I know this is daring; but couldn't you both come and lunch with me? I have my father's little house in Stratton Street, and should like to think you had been there. It would be very good of you."
Mr. Vincent shook his head. "No time."
"You'll have to lunch somewhere," Tom pleaded.
"Yes, but I must go to my lawyer's almost immediately, and one or two other places, and don't quite know how much time they'll take up."
"Are you going alone?"
"Yes."
"Then look here," Tom exclaimed, delighted at his own audacity, "if you are going to lawyers and people, couldn't I take Miss Vincent round and show her something? Picture-galleries, Tower of London, British Museum, Houses of Parliament, top of the Monument—that kind of thing, you know. We'd take a hansom, and put half London into a couple of hours."