“As I have nowhere particular to go, I shall just walk along to Savile Row, and order two pairs of trousers.”
XV
MRS. FITZHERBERT had fixed half-past eight for the hour of dinner, but Canon Spratte, anxious for a few words before any one arrived, came early. He found her ready to receive him. When he entered the drawing-room she was at the window, looking at the dusk which clothed the London street in a certain atmosphere of charming mystery.
“Well?” he said, looking at her and taking both her hands.
“I’m glad you came before the others, I wanted to have a chat with you.”
“It was cruel of you to leave London so suddenly. You can’t imagine how eagerly I’ve wished to see you.”
“I’m afraid it was inevitable,” she answered. “My friend is still very ill, and I only came up this evening because I didn’t want to put my party off.”
“I was hoping you’d come up to see me,” he smiled.
“In point of fact it was only to see you,” she laughed. “I would have postponed the rest of them gaily, but I think we have a good deal to say to one another.”
“I feel immensely flattered,” he replied.