CHAPTER XVII.
GUESSES.
“MR. INGRAM,” cried young Mosenberg, bursting into the room of his friend, “do you know that I have seen your princess from the island of the Atlantic? Yes, I met her yesterday, and I went up to the house, and I dined there and spent all the evening there.”
Ingram was not surprised, nor, apparently, much interested. He was cutting open the leaves of a quarterly review, and a freshly-filled pipe lay on the table beside him. A fire had been lit, for the evenings were getting chill occasionally; the shutters were shut; there was some whiskey on the table; so that this small apartment seemed to have its share of bachelor’s comforts.
“Well,” said Ingram quietly, “did you play for her?”
“Yes.”
“And sing for her, too?”
“Yes.”
“Did you play and sing your very best for her?”
“Yes, I did. But I have not told you half yet. This afternoon I went up, and she went out for a walk with me; and we went down through Kensington Gardens, and all around by the Serpentine—”
“Did she go into that parade of people?” said Ingram, looking up with some surprise.