"Sounds perfectly delightful," he agreed; "but I can't in the least guess where it is."
"I know my way about London," said Gertie Higham.
They walked along Oxford Street, the girl endeavouring to keep in step with him, and he attempting to keep in step with her; they appeared to decide near to Wells Street that it would be more convenient to fall back on individual methods. At the corner of Tottenham Court Road Gertie hailed a yellow omnibus which was on the point of starting; she skipped up the steps with a confidence that made the conductor's warning "'Old tight!" superfluous.
"You didn't mind my sending out that message the other evening?" Beginning the conversation breathlessly.
"I considered it kind of you to be so thoughtful."
"It wasn't exactly that. I didn't want a row with aunt. What did you think of Mr. Trew?"
"Do you know, it occurred to me that he looked rather like an omnibus driver."
"He is an omnibus driver."
"A relative?"
"Better than that—a friend. I s'pose you're somewhat particular about relations?"