“Of leaving the house in Cromwell Road.”
“No; she told me nothing. Only—”
“Only what?”
“Well, it struck me that she had something on her mind. You know how bright and merry she usually is. Well, last night she seemed very thoughtful, and I wondered whether she had had any little difference with Charlie.”
“You mean that they may have quarrelled?”
“I hardly think that likely,” she said, quickly. “Charlie is far too fond of her, as you know.”
“And her father does not altogether approve of it,” Max remarked. “He has told me so.”
“Poor Charlie!” the girl said, for she was very fond of her brother. He was always a good friend to her, and gave her money to buy her dresses and purchase the few little luxuries which her modest stipend as a shop-assistant would not allow her to otherwise possess. “I’m sure he’s devoted to Maud. And she’s one of the best girls I know. They’d make a perfect pair. But the Doctor’s a foreigner, and doesn’t really understand Englishmen.”
“Perhaps that’s it,” Max said, trying to assume a careless air, for he felt that a hundred eyes were upon him.
Their position was not a very comfortable one, to say the least. He knew that he ought not to have come there during business hours, but the mystery had so puzzled him that he felt he must continue his inquiries. He had fully expected the morning post to bring him a line from the Doctor. But there had been nothing.