He laughed, as though it had been a playful freak of destiny. Doggie laughed, too. But for the words he had addressed to hotel and lodging-house folk, he had spoken to no one for over a fortnight. The instinctive craving for companionship made Phineas suddenly welcome.
“Yes. Let us have a talk,” said he. “Come to my rooms, if you have the time. There’ll be some dinner.”
“Will I come? Will I have dinner? Will I re-enter once more the paradise of the affluent? Laddie, I will.”
In the Strand they hailed a taxi and drove to Bloomsbury. On the way Phineas asked:
“You mentioned your rooms. Are you residing permanently in London?”
“Yes,” said Doggie.
“And Durdlebury?”
“I’m not going back.”
“London’s a place full of temptations for those without experience,” Phineas observed sagely.
“I’ve not noticed any,” Doggie replied. On which Phineas laughed and slapped him on the knee.