''You are—ah—quite comfortable, I hope, in Cadogan Mansions. I think it is Cadogan Mansions, is it not?—Yes.'
'Very comfortable indeed, thank you, Mr. Pink. They are comparatively modern, and the elevator makes it seem more or less like home.'
Mr. Pink brightened; he evidently wished me to be discursive. 'Indeed!' he said—'Ye-es?'
'Yes,' I returned; 'when I have time I always use the elevator.'
'That is not, I think, the address of the lady your father mentioned to us as your only relative in London, Miss Wick?' 'Oh no,' I responded, cheerfully; 'Mrs. Cummers Portheris lives in Half-Moon Street, Mr. Pink.'
'Ah, so I understand. Pardon the inquiry, Miss Wick, but was there not some expectation on your father's part that you would pass the time of your visit in London with Mrs. Portheris?'
'On all our parts, Mr. Pink. But it vanished the day after I arrived'—and I could not help smiling as I remembered the letter I had written from the Métropole telling the Wick family about my reception by my affectionate relation.
Mr. Pink smiled too, a little doubtfully as well as drearily this time. He did not seem to know quite how to proceed.
'Pardon me again, Miss Wick, but there must be occasions, I should think, when you would feel your—ah—comparative isolation'—and Mr. Pink let one of his grey whiskers run through his long, thin hand.
'Very seldom,' I said; 'there is so much to see in London, Mr. Pink. Even the store-windows are entertaining to a stranger'—and I wondered more than ever what was coming.