A month later Eustace came bounding up the stairs to find her.
“Winnie, Winnie!” he called. “Where are you? I’ve something to show you.”
He held a newspaper in his hand. Winifred was not in the room. Eustace rang the bell.
“Where is Mrs. Lane?” he asked of the footman who answered it.
“Gone out, sir,” the man answered.
“And not back yet? It’s very late,” said Eustace, looking at his watch.
The time was a quarter to eight. They were dining at half-past.
“I wonder where she is,” he thought.
Then he sat down and gazed at a cartoon which represented a thin man with a preternaturally pale face, legs like sticks, and drooping hands full of toys—himself. Beneath it was written, “His aim is to amuse.”
He turned a page, and read, for the third or fourth time, the following: