I was as stand-offish as I could be.
“I don’t see how I can remember you when I don’t even know your name.”
He spoke to me across the back of his hand.
“My name is Rudd—Isaac Rudd; known to my friends, of whom, the Lord be praised, I’ve many, as Covey. It’s a—a term of endearment, so to speak, Miss Blyth.”
That anyone could apply a term of endearment to such a man as he seemed to be, was more than I believed to be possible.
“If you will let me take your address, Mr. Rudd, I will see that you have your one and three.”
“My address? Ah! Now there you have me. I don’t happen to have an—an address just now. In fact, I’m—I’m moving.”
We were going towards the door. I was beginning to fear that he intended to accompany us home. Nor did I see how we could prevent him, since he was at liberty to take such measures as he chose which would ensure the return of the money he had paid for us. But, as we drew near the entrance, he started back; and his demeanour changed in the most extraordinary way.
“Good-night,” he stammered, retreating farther and farther from us. “Don’t—don’t let me keep you, not—not for another moment.”
We went out. Directly we were in the open air Tom drew a long breath.