“Not from you, any way. But how can I help wanting to know where she is? And my aunt was saying just now that very likely she had gone right away to the other end of London—to Peckham or some such place.”
“You have seen Mrs. Lavender, then?”
“I have just come from there. The old heathen thinks the whole affair rather a good joke; but perhaps that was only her way of showing her temper, for she was in a bit of rage, to be sure. And so Sheila sent me that message?”
“Yes.”
“Does she want money? Would you take her some money from me?” he said eagerly. Any bond of union between him and Sheila would be of some value.
“I don’t think she needs money; and in any case I know she wouldn’t take it from you.”
“Well, now, Ingram, you have seen her and talked with her, what do you think she intends to do? What do you think she would have me do?”
“These are very dangerous questions for me to answer,” Ingram said. “I don’t see how you can expect me to assume the responsibility.”
“I don’t ask you to do that at all. But I never found your advice to fail. And if you give me any hint as to what I should do, I will do it upon my own responsibility.”
“Then I won’t. But this I will do; I will tell you as nearly as ever I can what she said, and you can judge for yourself.”