“Then I shall see you often if I stay in Brighton?” said Sheila.
“We go out every day when it does not rain very hard.”
“Perhaps some wet day you will come and see me, and you will have some tea with me; would you like that?”
“Yes, very much,” said the small musician, looking up frankly.
Just at this moment, the half hour having fully expired, the man appeared at the door.
“Don’t hurry,” said Sheila to the little girl; “sit still and drink out the lemonade, then I will give you some little parcels which you must put in your pocket.”
She was about to rise to go to the counter when she suddenly met the eyes of her husband, who was calmly staring at her. He had come out, after their ride, with Mrs. Lorraine to have a stroll up and down the pavements, and had, in looking in at the various shops, caught sight of Sheila quietly having luncheon with this girl whom she had picked up in the streets.
“Did you ever see the like of that?” he said to Mrs. Lorraine. “In open day, with people staring in, and she has not even taken the trouble to put the violin out of sight!”
“The poor child means no harm,” said his companion.
“Well, we must get her out of this somehow,” he said; and so they entered the shop.