“In a theatre--watching from an uncomfortable back seat? The stage is open to you.”
“And the parts? Even if I were cast, think of my poor memory. The words are so hard, so artificial. At most I could play the walking gentleman, and in truth I have no mind for that.”
Isabel smiled, as if involuntarily, and, after glancing round the room, quitted her seat.
“A friend is coming in a day or two to stay with me,” she said; “not a mere acquaintance, but really a friend. I should like you to meet her: you won’t refuse?”
“You can’t help liking Mrs. Stratton. She has been my nearest friend for years.”
“I may be gone,” Kingcote said, in a matter-of-fact tone.
“Gone? But you have no intention of leaving?”
“My sister’s husband is ill. Circumstances might compel me to return.”
“But you are not summoned? You won’t leave your cottage unless there is a necessity?”
“Perhaps not; yet I can’t be sure. I act very much on impulse.”
“That phrase reminds me of some one--a very foolish young man, whom you don’t at all resemble.”
“One of the many; never mind him. But you will not be gone before next Wednesday; that we may take for granted; unless, of course, you have bad news. You will come and lunch with us on Wednesday?”
“And Miss Warren. I want you to know her better.”
“Yes, I will come, if I am still at Wood End.”
He held his hand to take leave. Isabel retained it as she spoke.
“In any case you will not go without coming to say good-bye?”
“I could not easily do that, Mrs. Clarendon.” She went with him into the hall, and, when he had left the house, watched him from the drawing-room windows till the trees intervened.
To Mr. Vincent Lacour, issuing from the precincts of the South Kensington Museum, and about to walk towards the railway station, came the vision of a face that he knew, borne past him in a hansom cab, which in a moment stopped. It was raining slightly. Lacour used his umbrella for self-concealment, and, at the same time, contrived to watch his acquaintance descending from the vehicle. She (it was a lady) handed up her fare and passed into the Museum.
The young man invoked aloud the divinity of Jingo.
“A minute later,” he continued to himself, “and we should have come face to face with her. A chance meeting, of course; why shouldn’t people have met by chance? But I’m glad she didn’t see us together.”