“Come along then.” And so they disappeared into Hardy's lodgings.
The two young ladies, meanwhile, soothed old Mr. Winter, who had eaten and drank more than was good for him, and was naturally put out thereby. They soon managed to persuade him to retire, and then followed themselves—first to Mary's room, where that young lady burst out at once, “What a charming place it is! Oh! didn't you enjoy your evening, Katie!”
“Yes, but I felt a little awkward without a chaperone. You seemed to get on very well with my cousin. You scarcely spoke to us in the Long Walk till just before we came away. What were you talking about?”
Mary burst into a gay laugh. “All sorts of nonsense,” she said. “I don't think I ever talked so much nonsense in my life. I hope he isn't shocked. I don't think he is. But I said anything that came into my head. I couldn't help it. You don't think it wrong?”
“Wrong, dear? No, I'm sure you could say nothing wrong.”
“I'm not so sure of that. But, Katie dear, I know there is something on his mind.”
“Why do you think so?”
“Oh, because he stopped short twice, and became quite absent, and seemed not to hear anything I said.”
“How odd! I never knew him do so. Did you see any reason for it?”
“No; unless it was two men we passed in the crowd. One was a vulgar-looking wretch, who was smoking—a fat black thing, with such a thick nose, covered with jewelry—”