"Will you give me her address, Mrs. Busby."
Mr. Southwode's pencil was ready, but instead of giving him something to do with it, Mrs. Busby rang the bell. Pencil and notebook waited.
"Lesbia, go up to my dressing room and bring me a little green book with a clasp lying on my table there."
A few minutes of silence and waiting; then Lesbia returned with the announcement, "There aint no sort o' little book there, Mis' Busby. There's a heap o' big ones, but they aint green."
"Go again and look in the left hand drawer."
Lesbia came again. "Aint nothin' there but papers."
"That will do. Mr. Southwode, I have not my address book, and without that I cannot give you what you want. The name of the post-office town is very peculiar, and I always forget it. But I can write to Rotha to-morrow and summon her, if you think it necessary."
"Would that be an inexpedient measure?"
"You must judge. I have not thought best to do it; but if it is necessary
I can do it now."
"I will not give you so much trouble. If you will allow me, I will come again to morrow evening, and get the address."