When Reggie asked for the bill, he found the box of chocolates cost fifteen shillings, and preferring to spend his money exclusively on himself, was consequently none too pleased. Mrs. Castillyon had kept the cab, and offered to drive her cavalier to Grosvenor Gardens, where she was going for a second tea.
’I’ve had a good time,” she said, when they arrived. “You’d better give the driver five bob. Good-bye, Reggie. Mind you’re not late to-morrow. Where shall we dine?”
“I don’t mind as long as it’s cheap,” he said, ruefully handing the cabman five shillings.
“Oh, I’ll stand you a dinner,” said Mrs. Castillyon.
“All right,” he answered, his face brightening. “Let’s go to the Carlton, then.”
Mrs. Castillyon skipped into the house, and Reggie, who hated walking, to save money trudged sulkily home to Sloane Gardens: Frank showed much wisdom when he asserted that love and economy went seldom hand-in-hand.
“It’s cost me over a quid,” he muttered. “I could have dined Madge three times for that, and I’m blowed if she’s so damned vulgar as that little baggage.”
But next day he met her in the Carlton vestibule, and they sat down to dinner. The waiter brought him a wine-card.
“What would you like to drink?” he asked.
“Something fizzy.”