Then the producer spoke to him from the stage.
“Mr. Leahurst, a point has arisen.”
“Go ahead, Mr. Hope,” he said. “I leave it to you”; and turning his shoulder a little more, he went on talking to Miss Verinder.
“Take to-day—fine bright winter day. Fancy us coming stuffing in here, all in the dark. I don’t play outdoor games myself. But surely to goodness one might take a ’bus and have a walk up Highgate way; or run down to Brighton in the Southern Belle and take a toddle on the pier. You like open air, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Yes, I thought so. And cold water too, unless I’m mistaken. I mean, a tub every morning.”
Emmie was embarrassed.
“So do I,” said Mr. Leahurst, quite heartily. “Keeps one fresh—and young. I mean, young for one’s age”; and he looked at her with another friendly smile. Then he became very confidential again. “But since I lost my wife I feel myself in a precarious situation. No proper home. Then, of course, these girls take advantage of me.”
“What girls?” asked Miss Verinder innocently.