“Another time then. I shall only say au revoir.”
François followed him into the hall, and watched him step into a hansom, and give the address of his hotel to the driver.
When he turned away, there was a curious expression about his lips, which presently deepened into a smile that was partly cynicism, partly something else.
He was reflecting on the curious encounters liable to befall a man like himself. He thought of the evening’s conversation, and smiled again to think how completely till this moment he had failed to realize the humour of its friendly nature.
“C’est un honnête homme. Il ne méritait pas ça——”
François dismissed the subject of Dr. Dakin’s deserts with a mental shrug, as he went upstairs to his room, in which a bright fire was burning.
XVIII
François drew up an armchair close to the blaze, and lighted his pipe.
His thoughts at first dwelt upon the man with whom he had just parted—a loyal straight, good fellow if ever there was one, he decided. The verdict was accompanied by a greater sense of self-dissatisfaction, a sensation nearer to shame and regret that he had for years experienced.
It was an uncomfortable attitude of mind, and with characteristic love of ease, he hastened to obliterate it, by turning his attention elsewhere.